She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “You’re going to call me at the Big Man on that phone I gave you. The number’s in the phone. Sun’s up in about three hours. My shift is over in four. That’s the duration of this offer. We don’t see Shadow tonight, we’re tearing the neighborhood down. SWAT, Tactical, the state police, the FBI, everybody’s coming. Because when I go back to the district to file my report, I’m putting Shadow and the Watchmen together, I’m telling everyone that you told me Shadow was laid up in Central City and we’re coming looking—for him and for you.
“We’re hitting Big Mike and his crew first. And I’m gonna make sure Mike knows you had a chance to stop the storm from happening and didn’t get it done. And Shadow won’t be helping anyone else up onto the throne because there won’t be a throne. There won’t be a kingdom. I’m coming through and burning everything down. You think the Iberville got torn down? You ain’t seen nothing.”
“I, uh, no disrespect,” Little E said, “but the Big Man closed.”
“Let me worry about that,” Maureen said. “You get word to Shadow. You call me when he’s on his way to the Big Man.”
Etienne looked at the phone in his hand and Maureen knew his thinking. He could get five, maybe even ten dollars for that phone, a burner with all its time on it, within five blocks in any direction of where they stood. He could toss it down the nearest storm drain and tell Maureen someone had taken it off him. He knew enough that even if the 82nd Airborne came through the neighborhood the next day, their interest in him wouldn’t last. He was too small-time. For the game. For the law. His smallness was what allowed him to survive, and E knew it.
“I want you to think about something,” Maureen said. “I want you to think about the times, the many, many times, that Preacher did right by you. The times he caught you fucking up and let it slide. You think about the jail you didn’t do because of Preacher. You don’t like me, you don’t want to do nothing for me, that’s fine. But I’m here representing him, and I’m calling in his favors.”
Little E stared hard at the street, his chin on his chest. Maureen had no idea if she’d reached him. She’d threatened him, reasoned with him, appealed to his better nature. She didn’t know what else she could do, other than let him loose. The clock was ticking and she’d emptied her bag of tricks.
“Hit it,” she said. “And let me hear from you soon.”
An idea struck her as Little E walked away, something to add emphasis to her request and some urgency to Shadow’s response. She called Little E back to her. Shadow had become involved with the Watchmen because Ruiz and Quinn had something on him, something they used against him. What it was, Maureen had never learned, but Shadow didn’t know that. E looked at her expectantly.
“You tell Shadow that I’ve been talking to Ruiz. Tell him it’s been passed on to me.”
“That’s it?”
“Make sure you tell him that,” Maureen said. “He’ll know what you mean. Trust me.”
E walked away from her, murmuring to himself.
30
After E turned the corner in search of his friends, Maureen walked over to the Big Man.
She rapped on the gate over the front door with her flashlight. She leaned in close to the door, listening for sounds from the inside. She heard faint jukebox music. No doubt the bar’s owner was there, trying to relax while he cleaned and counted, swept and mopped and sorted. Maybe sipping the night’s first cold beer, smoking the first unhurried cigarette. She knew the drill, she’d done it herself countless times, which meant she hated bothering the man. But times were different now, and there was shit she needed to get done.
She rapped on the gate again, adding, “NOPD. Open up.”
She glanced overhead. She saw that a security camera peered down at the entrance. The owner could double-check that it really was police at his front door. After she’d had a chance to talk with the man, she’d have to convince him to turn off that camera, and any other cameras in his place, for as long as she needed. She banged again with the flashlight, harder this time. The music went off inside the bar. Don’t do that, she thought. Don’t pretend you’re not in there. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.
The door opened a few inches. “I didn’t call. There’s nothing going on in here.”
“It’s not about that,” Maureen said.
“I don’t know nothin’ about them boys on the steps,” he said. “Every now and again, they drink in here. Neighborhood fellas, they’re never any trouble for me. If they’re trouble for anyone else I don’t know nothin’ about that.”
“This doesn’t involve them,” Maureen said. “Not directly.”
“It’s been a long night, Officer,” the man said. “I won’t get out of here for at least another hour as it is.”
“That’s actually a good thing,” Maureen said.
The man frowned at her.
“I’m Officer Maureen Coughlin. And you are?”
“Gus LaValle.”
“Mr. LaValle, the NOPD needs a favor from you.”
LaValle looked down at the floor. “I know y’all have had a bad day. I don’t know what I can do.”