Judging Time

34

Liberty checked his E-mail and read a message from Jason, telling him they urgently needed to talk. He didn't want to talk to Jason right now, so he didn't reply. There were also E-mails from his partners, telling him that he was being self-destructive and demanding that he surface and deal with his situation. He ignored those, too. As he was shutting down, a news flash came up on America Online: LIBERTY FLEES AFTER POLICE QUESTION HIM ON THE MURRDER OF HIS WIFE. A story followed about the reappearance of his Lincoln after he'd reported it stolen upon his return from a holiday in England. Police reports revealed that the car was blood-spattered, and traces of a white powder believed to be cocaine were found in the trunk.

Rick was stunned. He shut down the computer so he could use the phone to call Marvin on his private line.

Marvin picked up almost immediately. "Hello."

"It's Rick," he said warily. "You sure your phone isn't tapped?"

"We sweep for bugs every day. How you doin', man?" Marvin's voice was neutral.

"You're in the media business. You know how I am. My car turned up."

"Yeah, I was one of the first to know. I have a friend with the police, you know."

"If you have so many friends, why don't you tell me what the hell's going on?"

"I'm in the dark, man, same as you. Just trying to keep my head above water." "What about my head?"

"Hey, you watch your own head. This is what you wanted, friend."

"Oh, no, this is not what I wanted. I want to be off the hook here. I want this over with. Of all the places I could be, Marv. Why did you want me up here in Harlem, with this crazy sister?"

"I thought you'd want to be where the action is, man. Have a look at your people. What could be better than to hide in plain sight?"

"I'm not hiding, man. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Well, that's as may be, brotha."

Rick heaved a bitter sigh. "Marv, I think my people are setting me up. You have any thoughts on why?"

"No, brotha," Marvin said smoothly. "Course not. I don't know who killed Merrill. If I did, the black bastard'd be in jail right now."

"How do you know the killer's a black man?"

"Did I say that?"

"Yeah, you said the black bastard and so did Belle, earlier today. For God's sake, man, don't fuck with me about this."

"I'm sorry. It was a slip, a slip of the tongue. I have no idea who it was, white or black. No idea, man."

"Sweet Jesus. You're fucking with me. You know that crazy sister of yours said that cocaine killed Tor. Was Merrill caught in the middle of some cocaine buy?"

"Could be that's what happened. But Belle's no crazy sister. She's one of my best people. What's the matter? Don't you like her?"

Who could like a person like that? "What do you mean, your best people?"

"Didn't she tell you? She works with the kids, with the borough. She's one of our community liaisons with the police, with the DA's office. She goes to family court when innocent young folk are arrested. Helps battered women find safe houses. You couldn't find better people than Belle."

"Fine, I'll take your word for it. Who's the cocaine source then?"

"The word is it's Wally Jefferson, Petersen's driver, the man you been wanting to see. You hit the nail on the head with that one. I hear he used Petersen's car for buys. Maybe he got the idea to use yours and forgot to put it back. What do you think, man?"

Rick was silent.

"Hey, these things happen, you know that. It's best you get yourself out in the open, man. I get the feeling you're a little scared, a little agitated. Why don't you relax, go out in the hood and take a look round. See the people, have a little chat with Wally if you happen to see him around. Know what I mean? Just watch out for those Dominicans, okay? They can be mean."

"You know where Jefferson is? No one is picking up at his house."

"I know a place he goes."

"Fine, I'll look for him. But call your police friends and get them off my back. Merrill was caught in a drug hit. For God's sake, tell them that."

"You know I can't do that. I don't make no news— I just report it."

"That's a crock. You assholes make pretzels of the truth every fucking day."

"Still, I'm the asshole you came to, brotha." On that note, Marvin hung up.

Rick didn't feel like calling him back. He' opened his E-mail again and sent a panicked message to Jason, then regretted it and tried to unsend it. He realized that Jason might have a similar response to Marvin's. Too late: The message was gone. Then he sat by the window. It was raining. He watched the rain splash on the pavement. No one was hanging out on the stoop across the street now. It looked just like a regular neighborhood on a gloomy winter afternoon.

At 7 P.M. Belle returned to the apartment. Without taking off the fireman's raincoat she wore over her many layers, she gestured for Rick to follow her. They were going out.