No men rocking on their porches. No business being done on the corner. They knew, she realized. They all knew. She sat on a bench on the front porch and cried.
Chapter Eleven
HANK ROSSI ESCORTED ALEX away from the Henderson crime scene, across the street to her car, asking if she was okay. He got the basics from her and turned her over to another detective to take her statement before going after Dwayne Reed.
Reed didn’t have a permanent address, preferring to flop with friends or hang at Odyessy Shelburne’s house. Odyessy was Reed’s mother, fifteen years older than her son, crackhead skinny, and mean from a lifetime of trading sex for dope. Rossi banged on her front door an hour after Alex discovered the bodies of the Henderson family.
“Who is it?” Odyessy said from behind the door.
Rossi had first met her when he arrested Reed for the murder of Wilfred Donaire. She had spat on him as he cuffed Reed and hustled him out of her house.
“It’s Detective Rossi, Odyessy. Open up.”
“For what? I ain’t done nuthin’.”
“And I didn’t say you did. I’m looking for Dwayne.”
Odyessy opened the door a few inches, peeking out, her eyes darting back and forth like bugs skittering across the water, her next fix past due.
“What you want wit’ Dwayne?”
“That’s between him and me. Is he here?”
“Nah, and I ain’t seen him.”
She stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her, one hand on her bony hip, wearing jeans and a blouse unbuttoned to her waist, not caring that she was exposing her bare breasts, the way she got what she needed. Rossi kept his eyes on hers.
“Button up, Odyessy. I’m a cop, not one of your johns. If I find out you’re lying to me, you’ll go down for obstructing justice, harboring a fugitive, and being an accessory after the fact.”
“That so, Detective?”
She tilted her head to one side, trying for sexy, but she was too used up to make it work, coming across instead as desperate.
“That’s so. Shake your tits all you want, but you’re still going down.”
She bunched her shirt, tying the ends in a knot, yanking it hard, defiant.
“You wanna arrest me, go on ahead and arrest me. I ain’t seen my boy. You find him, tell him I say come home and pay me what he owe me.”
Rossi pushed the door open. The house reeked of body odor, spoiled food, and decay, the paint chipped and peeling, electrical wires poking out of bare sockets, fast-food wrappers strewn across the floor like dead leaves. The only light came from a few floor lamps.
There was another smell, something burning. He looked beyond Odyessy, down the center hallway that led to the kitchen at the back of the house, then into the front room on his left. Ashes were piled in the fireplace, a few embers still smoldering.
A T-shirt identical to one Reed had been wearing when Rossi arrested him after the Donaire murder trial was draped across the sofa in the front room, a pair of men’s sneakers on the floor, a bowl of cereal and an open carton of milk on the coffee table. A cat jumped onto the table, knocking the milk carton over, as a toilet flushed and a door at the end of the narrow hall opened. Reed stepped out, locking eyes with Rossi before darting out the back door.
“Hey! Dwayne!” Rossi yelled.
Rossi started after Reed but Odyessy jumped on him, digging her fingernails into his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his middle. He jammed his thumbs into her armpits, squeezing until she yelped and let loose. Shoving her onto the porch, he bolted down the hall, catching a glimpse of Reed through the kitchen window, barefoot and shirtless, climbing the six-foot chain-link fence in the backyard.
Rossi shouldered through the back door and ran after him, stopping when Reed caught his foot in the fence and fell over onto the other side, arms outstretched, his thigh impaled on the spikes of the top rung, blood gushing down his leg as he flailed against the fence and screamed.
“Goddamn
Chapter Eleven
HANK ROSSI ESCORTED ALEX away from the Henderson crime scene, across the street to her car, asking if she was okay. He got the basics from her and turned her over to another detective to take her statement before going after Dwayne Reed.
Reed didn’t have a permanent address, preferring to flop with friends or hang at Odyessy Shelburne’s house. Odyessy was Reed’s mother, fifteen years older than her son, crackhead skinny, and mean from a lifetime of trading sex for dope. Rossi banged on her front door an hour after Alex discovered the bodies of the Henderson family.
“Who is it?” Odyessy said from behind the door.
Rossi had first met her when he arrested Reed for the murder of Wilfred Donaire. She had spat on him as he cuffed Reed and hustled him out of her house.
“It’s Detective Rossi, Odyessy. Open up.”
“For what? I ain’t done nuthin’.”
“And I didn’t say you did. I’m looking for Dwayne.”
Odyessy opened the door a few inches, peeking out, her eyes darting back and forth like bugs skittering across the water, her next fix past due.
“What you want wit’ Dwayne?”
“That’s between him and me. Is he here?”
“Nah, and I ain’t seen him.”
She stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her, one hand on her bony hip, wearing jeans and a blouse unbuttoned to her waist, not caring that she was exposing her bare breasts, the way she got what she needed. Rossi kept his eyes on hers.
“Button up, Odyessy. I’m a cop, not one of your johns. If I find out you’re lying to me, you’ll go down for obstructing justice, harboring a fugitive, and being an accessory after the fact.”
“That so, Detective?”
She tilted her head to one side, trying for sexy, but she was too used up to make it work, coming across instead as desperate.
“That’s so. Shake your tits all you want, but you’re still going down.”
She bunched her shirt, tying the ends in a knot, yanking it hard, defiant.
“You wanna arrest me, go on ahead and arrest me. I ain’t seen my boy. You find him, tell him I say come home and pay me what he owe me.”
Rossi pushed the door open. The house reeked of body odor, spoiled food, and decay, the paint chipped and peeling, electrical wires poking out of bare sockets, fast-food wrappers strewn across the floor like dead leaves. The only light came from a few floor lamps.
There was another smell, something burning. He looked beyond Odyessy, down the center hallway that led to the kitchen at the back of the house, then into the front room on his left. Ashes were piled in the fireplace, a few embers still smoldering.
A T-shirt identical to one Reed had been wearing when Rossi arrested him after the Donaire murder trial was draped across the sofa in the front room, a pair of men’s sneakers on the floor, a bowl of cereal and an open carton of milk on the coffee table. A cat jumped onto the table, knocking the milk carton over, as a toilet flushed and a door at the end of the narrow hall opened. Reed stepped out, locking eyes with Rossi before darting out the back door.
“Hey! Dwayne!” Rossi yelled.
Rossi started after Reed but Odyessy jumped on him, digging her fingernails into his shoulders, wrapping her legs around his middle. He jammed his thumbs into her armpits, squeezing until she yelped and let loose. Shoving her onto the porch, he bolted down the hall, catching a glimpse of Reed through the kitchen window, barefoot and shirtless, climbing the six-foot chain-link fence in the backyard.
Rossi shouldered through the back door and ran after him, stopping when Reed caught his foot in the fence and fell over onto the other side, arms outstretched, his thigh impaled on the spikes of the top rung, blood gushing down his leg as he flailed against the fence and screamed.
“Goddamn
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