Bobby Grimes was hustling across the lawn, the crew hurrying to catch up. “You must be Mr. Quintabe,” he said. “I’m Bobby Grimes. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Dodson said. “I’m Isaiah’s senior associate, Juanell Dodson. My card.”
Bobby pinched the card like it was a live grasshopper. He was sharp in his cobalt-blue Savile Row suit and white shirt open at the neck, the wink of a platinum Piaget just under his cuff. “I’m afraid I’m short on time so I’ll get right to the point,” he said. “Now I’m sorry to have to say this but from my perspective this investigation of yours is a complete waste of time. Yes, I’ve seen the video and I realize the murder attempt was real and that we should all be concerned but there’s nothing we can do about it right now except take precautions and go about our business.”
“Bobby’s right,” Charles said. “I mean like, we got to get the show on the road, do what we do.”
“Was I talking to you?” Bobby said. “No, I wasn’t. And until I do, why don’t you keep your trap shut?”
“Damn, Bobby,” Bug said. “Why you gotta be like that?”
“When I need to hear from you, big boy, I’ll wave a ham sandwich,” Bobby said.
“Cal says Noelle set up the dog attack,” Isaiah said.
“Oh please,” Anthony said. “Noelle hates Cal but even she wouldn’t do something that ridiculous.”
“Who else would want to kill Cal?” Isaiah said.
“Who doesn’t?” Charles said. “Cal fucked over all kinds of people. There’s niggas back in Inglewood still want to shoot his ass.”
“Kwaylud,” Bug said. “They been beefin’ since the old days.”
“What’s important right now,” Bobby said, glaring at the brothers, “is getting Cal back into the studio. The rest of this mess is a distraction.”
“How long were Cal and Noelle married?” Isaiah said.
“Three years,” Anthony said.
“Kids?”
“No. Why?”
“No kids and a short marriage, the judge probably gave her alimony for half that time. She might be out of money. Did Cal have life insurance?”
“Oh please, are we really going there?” Anthony said.
“Will you listen to this Columbo muthafucka?” Charles said.
“Yes, Mr. Quintabe,” Bobby said, “Cal has life insurance. I wouldn’t want you finding out for yourself and thinking you’ve accomplished something. There’s a five-million-dollar policy on Cal’s life and a condition of the divorce was that he continue to pay the premiums. Does that answer your question?”
Isaiah just looked at him.
“All right, let’s approach this from a different direction, shall we?” Bobby said. “Suppose it is Noelle who tried to kill Cal for the life insurance.”
“It isn’t,” Anthony said.
“It could take weeks or even months to resolve this, if it can be resolved at all. And Calvin doesn’t have weeks or months. He’s contractually obliged to make my record by Monday after next and the longer this so-called investigation goes on, the longer he has an excuse to hide in his house.”
“What do you want from me?” Isaiah said.
“Cal doesn’t listen to his friends anymore, but he might listen to you,” Bobby said. “I want you to tell him that what he wants isn’t possible and that it’s perfectly safe for him to go back to work and make my record.”
“I don’t know it isn’t possible and I don’t know that he’s safe. Whoever wants Cal dead was serious enough about it to hire a hit man.”
“Oh now we’re assuming it was a professional? Why couldn’t it be somebody from his past?”
“That’s what I said,” Charles said.
“Shut up, Charles.”
“You mean that white man on the video is somebody from Inglewood or one of Kwaylud’s crew?” Isaiah said.