Part 28 (1/2)
”So I could come by and talk to him.” Leora's eyes widened and she began to cry again.
”Why would he -”
”Paris,” Fearless said. ”Let her get it out first, will ya?”
”I came here,” she continued, ”the door was unlocked.”
”What were you looking for?”
”I, I . . .”
”Leave her alone, Paris.”
”Shut up, Fearless.”
It was one of the few times I told Fearless to be quiet. He knew enough to listen.
”Talk to me, Leora.”
”He kidnapped my son.”
”Son is with Esau. You already knew that. What did Kit have that you wanted?”
Leora started gasping and then panting. She was at some early stage of shock. I knew that Fearless wouldn't let me continue, so I said, ”d.a.m.n!”
”We better get outta here, Paris,” Fearless said. The worry in his voice was for Leora.
”In a minute,” I said.
I launched into a quick search of the apartment. I went through drawers, closets, bedclothes, cereal boxes, the refrigerator and icebox, and the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.
Following my lead, Fearless searched the dead man.
”Here it is,” he said.
Next to the Watermelon Man's right ankle, under the sock, was the emerald pendant. Kit must have hidden it before answering the door for the last time.
”I'll put it with the money,” Fearless said.
I wondered if I'd be toting that bag on my journey down into h.e.l.l.
WE MADE IT OUT of the building without too many people marking our pa.s.sage. But every eye turned my way felt like a gun sight following me across an open field. of the building without too many people marking our pa.s.sage. But every eye turned my way felt like a gun sight following me across an open field.
”I can drive myself,” Leora said when we tried to guide her to Fearless's ride.
”I'll drive her,” I said.
”No, Paris. You have her jumpin' out the window with all your questions and s.h.i.+t.” With that Fearless handed me the keys to Ambrosia's car.
”Okay,” I said. ”You right. But where do we meet? Your mother's?”
”Naw. I don't wanna be talkin' 'bout no murders in my mama's house. No. You know where Milo leave his key, right?”
”Yeah, in a hole in the wall behind his mailbox. But what about Timmerman?”
”I ain't worried about him. He ain't got no pants, no shoes, no money, no car keys. Anyway, he admitted himself to the hospital.”
”You don't know that.”
”Sure I do. Remember when I made that call from Esau's?”
”You called the hospital?”
”Yeah, man. I knew he'd probably come after you so I wanted to make sure his b.u.t.t was in the sling.”
”Why come after me?” I asked. ”You the one that hurt him.”
”Yeah,” Fearless said, nodding. ”That's why he gonna leave me alone.”
ON THE RIDE BACK TOWARD MILO'S OFFICE I tried to make sense out of death. Anybody I'd come across could have killed Kit or the Wexlers. Even Timmerman had been in the mix long enough. And what was Leora after? I didn't doubt that she was innocent of Kit's murder, but why come after him if she already had her son? I tried to make sense out of death. Anybody I'd come across could have killed Kit or the Wexlers. Even Timmerman had been in the mix long enough. And what was Leora after? I didn't doubt that she was innocent of Kit's murder, but why come after him if she already had her son?
And why wouldn't the man who killed Kit have searched him? Because he was looking for something particular, something that could not be hidden in a sock.
34.
LORETTA KUROKO'S OFFICE had more room than Milo's. She also had a small canvas cot in a closet behind her desk-kept there for any client who had to make an early-morning court date. Leora Hartman was reclining on the cot by the time I made it to Milo's place. had more room than Milo's. She also had a small canvas cot in a closet behind her desk-kept there for any client who had to make an early-morning court date. Leora Hartman was reclining on the cot by the time I made it to Milo's place.
She and Fearless were talking when I got there. That was good, because Fearless had a way of making people trust him, even those who thought that he was dumb.
”How you feelin', Miss Hartman?” I asked when I came in.
”Fine.”
”Is that what I call you? Miss? Or is it Missus?”
”Missus. But my last name isn't Hartman-it's Brown.”
I knew a dozen people who went by that name. You met a new one every day or two. It was as common as Smith or Jones-more so among colored people. But still . . .
”Your husband's not a chess player, is he?”
”He is. How would you know that?”
”And he's from Illinois but he was born in Mississippi?”
”Where is he, Mr. Minton?” Leora sat up, her sorrow dissipating by the moment.