mouth. Is that right?”
The rooster found with Duncan had been a holdback, a piece of evidence not released to the media. Still, variations on the truth swirled in the rumor mill.
“Not quite. What else you hear?”
The woman checked up and down the street.
“I heard he’d been going around behind the Mother’s back, and this is what come of it, you know what I mean?”
“How going around?”
“Like hustling his own brand. You can’t disrespect that old woman like that. If you ask me, that boy was handing out calling cards to trouble.”
“Was he grinding ounces or weight?”
“What I heard, that boy was moving keys. Right under her nose! He ought to have known he couldn’t get away with that sort of business.”
“What else?”
Waving one of her gloved hands, Miss Cleo said, “I really don’t know much more. All I heard was some of them goofers what hangs out at her corner mart talking about it.”
“Which goofers?”
The woman offered a couple street names and Lewis wrote them down. Frank ran Danny’s associates’ names by her and Miss Cleo recognized Carrillo.
“He thinks he’s a boss bailer. He’d best mind he don’t end up with his you-know-what you know where.”
“Anything else?” Frank asked.
Miss Cleo hefted her slim shoulders. Frank gave her a twenty and told her to buy a new hat. Tucking the bill into her blouse the woman laughed wide.
“I can see it’s been some while since you bought a new hat, Officer Frank.”
“You be careful out there,” Frank said, motioning Lewis on.
“She’s a piece of work.”
“He,” Frank nodded. “Miss Cleo’s real name is Clarence Carter. He’s been on the hoe stroll since before dirt was invented.”
“Damn,” Lewis marveled.
“Yeah. Looks like the genuine article, huh?”
“Better’n you and me put together,” Lewis laughed.
“You can’t see the scars under his make-up. A rookie tried to bust his cherry on him then went ape shit with his D-cell when he felt under Miss Cleo’s skirt. Bobby and I responded. He was almost dead when we got there. Had a big old crack in his skull.”
“What happened to the rookie?”
“Last I heard he was up in San Mateo. Working vice.”
“Damn,” Lewis said through clenched teeth.
Frank kept her window down, letting the hot air outside compete with the slightly cooler air inside.
“So tell me. How would you have handled the Mother?”
Lewis pushed out her lips, studying the question.
“First off, I’d have been respectful, then I’d’ve asked where she was Wednesday night. Depend—”
“Nope. Right off you’ve fucked yourself. Right away you’ve put her on the defensive by wanting to know where she was during a murder. In something like this, where we don’t know the level of involvement, it’s best to approach them from the standpoint of the bereaved relative or friend. Get them talking about the vie and give them the chance to say something you might be able to bury them with. Once they’re talking and comfortable with the story they’re telling you, then you can start introducing the questions. Start with something innocuous like, ‘What sort of mood was he in? Who was he with?’ That makes them give you details you might be able to trip them up on later.
“Try to make every question open-ended. Don’t ask, ‘Were you with Danny Blank that night?’ That just leads you into a yes/no response. Always ask in a way that forces a more detailed answer. Ask, ‘When was the last time you saw Danny?’ That way you’re pinning her to specifics. Instead of, ‘Was Danny here last night?’ ask, ‘Where did you see Danny last?’ Never give them the answer. Force them to come up with their own. You see?”
Lewis nodded, slowing at a light.
“That’s another reason to breast your cards,” Frank continued. Her arm dangled outside the Mercury and she took a perverse pleasure in the searing heat. She absently deciphered the graffiti hieroglyphics sprayed on a
The rooster found with Duncan had been a holdback, a piece of evidence not released to the media. Still, variations on the truth swirled in the rumor mill.
“Not quite. What else you hear?”
The woman checked up and down the street.
“I heard he’d been going around behind the Mother’s back, and this is what come of it, you know what I mean?”
“How going around?”
“Like hustling his own brand. You can’t disrespect that old woman like that. If you ask me, that boy was handing out calling cards to trouble.”
“Was he grinding ounces or weight?”
“What I heard, that boy was moving keys. Right under her nose! He ought to have known he couldn’t get away with that sort of business.”
“What else?”
Waving one of her gloved hands, Miss Cleo said, “I really don’t know much more. All I heard was some of them goofers what hangs out at her corner mart talking about it.”
“Which goofers?”
The woman offered a couple street names and Lewis wrote them down. Frank ran Danny’s associates’ names by her and Miss Cleo recognized Carrillo.
“He thinks he’s a boss bailer. He’d best mind he don’t end up with his you-know-what you know where.”
“Anything else?” Frank asked.
Miss Cleo hefted her slim shoulders. Frank gave her a twenty and told her to buy a new hat. Tucking the bill into her blouse the woman laughed wide.
“I can see it’s been some while since you bought a new hat, Officer Frank.”
“You be careful out there,” Frank said, motioning Lewis on.
“She’s a piece of work.”
“He,” Frank nodded. “Miss Cleo’s real name is Clarence Carter. He’s been on the hoe stroll since before dirt was invented.”
“Damn,” Lewis marveled.
“Yeah. Looks like the genuine article, huh?”
“Better’n you and me put together,” Lewis laughed.
“You can’t see the scars under his make-up. A rookie tried to bust his cherry on him then went ape shit with his D-cell when he felt under Miss Cleo’s skirt. Bobby and I responded. He was almost dead when we got there. Had a big old crack in his skull.”
“What happened to the rookie?”
“Last I heard he was up in San Mateo. Working vice.”
“Damn,” Lewis said through clenched teeth.
Frank kept her window down, letting the hot air outside compete with the slightly cooler air inside.
“So tell me. How would you have handled the Mother?”
Lewis pushed out her lips, studying the question.
“First off, I’d have been respectful, then I’d’ve asked where she was Wednesday night. Depend—”
“Nope. Right off you’ve fucked yourself. Right away you’ve put her on the defensive by wanting to know where she was during a murder. In something like this, where we don’t know the level of involvement, it’s best to approach them from the standpoint of the bereaved relative or friend. Get them talking about the vie and give them the chance to say something you might be able to bury them with. Once they’re talking and comfortable with the story they’re telling you, then you can start introducing the questions. Start with something innocuous like, ‘What sort of mood was he in? Who was he with?’ That makes them give you details you might be able to trip them up on later.
“Try to make every question open-ended. Don’t ask, ‘Were you with Danny Blank that night?’ That just leads you into a yes/no response. Always ask in a way that forces a more detailed answer. Ask, ‘When was the last time you saw Danny?’ That way you’re pinning her to specifics. Instead of, ‘Was Danny here last night?’ ask, ‘Where did you see Danny last?’ Never give them the answer. Force them to come up with their own. You see?”
Lewis nodded, slowing at a light.
“That’s another reason to breast your cards,” Frank continued. Her arm dangled outside the Mercury and she took a perverse pleasure in the searing heat. She absently deciphered the graffiti hieroglyphics sprayed on a
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