I took up my own water glass and drank, my throat suddenly dry. ‘O’ told me today the coroner found cocaine in R.J.’s system, so the blow can’t be completely ruled out as a motive. But there had to be more to his murder than that.’
‘Why? Because he was shot four times instead of two? People who deal in drugs don’t need a reason to be crueler than necessary, Errol. One bullet or twenty, guns get emptied into old men over drugs every day.’
‘That’s true enough,’ I said.
‘You want to do us both a favor? Keep your nose out of this thing and let the authorities handle it.’
‘I’m not planning on doing anything dangerous. I just want to cover some of the ground the cops might miss, before somebody else tries first and makes a complete mess of it.’
‘Somebody else? Like who?’
I told him about R.J.’s daughter Toni. ‘Apparently, she’s a private investigator back home in Seattle and her mother’s pushing hard for her to start an investigation of her own.’
‘So? Let her.’
‘She’s not that kind of PI, Chance. She pushes paper for an insurance company, the girl doesn’t know the first thing about criminal law.’
‘And you do?’
‘Let’s just say I like my chances better than hers of poking around in this thing without getting hurt.’
My brother fell silent again, weighing his need to protect me from myself against his almost nonexistent chances of success.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
I sensed, more so than saw, his wife appear in the kitchen doorway to one side of us, where she stood and waited to hear how I would answer her husband’s question.
‘The stories you write for the Guardian . Are any of them ever political?’
‘Political?’ He shrugged. ‘Some. Not many. Why?’
‘The picture I’ve been getting of O’ as a public servant isn’t all that attractive. Corruption, in particular, seems to come up a lot when people talk about him.’
‘You think O’ had something to do with R.J.’s murder?’
‘No. Not at all. But the business he’s in is the dirtiest one around, and if the man’s anywhere near as crooked as some people think he is, it’s at least conceivable that he might’ve got R.J. killed just by accident.’
Chancellor thought that over, said, ‘Bellwood isn’t my beat, so I can’t say I know for sure. But if I had to guess, I’d say the rumors about the mayor almost have to contain a fair amount of truth. He’s gotten a lot done in Bellwood in a short period of time, and it doesn’t seem logical he could have done it all without bending a law or two along the way.’
‘Bending or breaking?’
‘I can’t answer that, but I know a woman who probably could. Jessie Scott, she’s a writer on staff at the local paper down there. Would you like to talk to her?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘All right. I’ll call her tomorrow and give her your number. Anything else?’
‘Nothing else,’ his wife said, finally stepping into the room. ‘I don’t want you doing anything to get mixed up in all this murder business, and neither does your brother.’ She trained her steady gaze on me. ‘Do you, Errol?’
‘Andrea . . .’ Chance said.
‘No, she’s right,’ I said. ‘I don’t. One of us acting the fool is enough.’ I stood up. ‘Thank you both for dinner. Tell the boys I’ll catch up with ‘em at least once before I leave.’
I made it out to my car without either one of them trying to stop me.
Without much trouble, I talked myself into stopping for a drink somewhere between my brother’s home and my motel. I was staying at the Holiday Motor Court Inn, a ten-unit cluster of dirty white bungalows on Adams and Western, and I had yet to discover how being a guest there could accurately be described as a ‘holiday’. The motel was cheap and clean, and the big, mumbling Nigerian behind the front desk was the closest thing to a roach I’d seen since checking in, but my room was perpetually cold, its walls
‘Why? Because he was shot four times instead of two? People who deal in drugs don’t need a reason to be crueler than necessary, Errol. One bullet or twenty, guns get emptied into old men over drugs every day.’
‘That’s true enough,’ I said.
‘You want to do us both a favor? Keep your nose out of this thing and let the authorities handle it.’
‘I’m not planning on doing anything dangerous. I just want to cover some of the ground the cops might miss, before somebody else tries first and makes a complete mess of it.’
‘Somebody else? Like who?’
I told him about R.J.’s daughter Toni. ‘Apparently, she’s a private investigator back home in Seattle and her mother’s pushing hard for her to start an investigation of her own.’
‘So? Let her.’
‘She’s not that kind of PI, Chance. She pushes paper for an insurance company, the girl doesn’t know the first thing about criminal law.’
‘And you do?’
‘Let’s just say I like my chances better than hers of poking around in this thing without getting hurt.’
My brother fell silent again, weighing his need to protect me from myself against his almost nonexistent chances of success.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
I sensed, more so than saw, his wife appear in the kitchen doorway to one side of us, where she stood and waited to hear how I would answer her husband’s question.
‘The stories you write for the Guardian . Are any of them ever political?’
‘Political?’ He shrugged. ‘Some. Not many. Why?’
‘The picture I’ve been getting of O’ as a public servant isn’t all that attractive. Corruption, in particular, seems to come up a lot when people talk about him.’
‘You think O’ had something to do with R.J.’s murder?’
‘No. Not at all. But the business he’s in is the dirtiest one around, and if the man’s anywhere near as crooked as some people think he is, it’s at least conceivable that he might’ve got R.J. killed just by accident.’
Chancellor thought that over, said, ‘Bellwood isn’t my beat, so I can’t say I know for sure. But if I had to guess, I’d say the rumors about the mayor almost have to contain a fair amount of truth. He’s gotten a lot done in Bellwood in a short period of time, and it doesn’t seem logical he could have done it all without bending a law or two along the way.’
‘Bending or breaking?’
‘I can’t answer that, but I know a woman who probably could. Jessie Scott, she’s a writer on staff at the local paper down there. Would you like to talk to her?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘All right. I’ll call her tomorrow and give her your number. Anything else?’
‘Nothing else,’ his wife said, finally stepping into the room. ‘I don’t want you doing anything to get mixed up in all this murder business, and neither does your brother.’ She trained her steady gaze on me. ‘Do you, Errol?’
‘Andrea . . .’ Chance said.
‘No, she’s right,’ I said. ‘I don’t. One of us acting the fool is enough.’ I stood up. ‘Thank you both for dinner. Tell the boys I’ll catch up with ‘em at least once before I leave.’
I made it out to my car without either one of them trying to stop me.
Without much trouble, I talked myself into stopping for a drink somewhere between my brother’s home and my motel. I was staying at the Holiday Motor Court Inn, a ten-unit cluster of dirty white bungalows on Adams and Western, and I had yet to discover how being a guest there could accurately be described as a ‘holiday’. The motel was cheap and clean, and the big, mumbling Nigerian behind the front desk was the closest thing to a roach I’d seen since checking in, but my room was perpetually cold, its walls
Similar Books
