Telling Lies

Chapter Fourteen

“I don’t know what you were afraid of, Mike,” I said. It was just after midnight and we were walking around Skid Row, looking for our contact, a hooker named Latonya. “Everyone’s so gosh darn friendly.”

“Sure, you’re with The Man,” he chuckled. “But you never know. Things can turn ugly in a hurry.”

“Evenin’, officer.” A passing loony tipped his hat. A fifty-one-fifty Flint would have called him, mental incompetent. “Evenin’, ma’am.”

“See,” I said to Mike. “Nice as pie.”

“Uh huh.” He nudged a body sprawled across the sidewalk. When the body roused, Mike gave him another nudge and ordered, “Get to steppin’.”

The body scuttled away.

“What would you have done if that man hadn’t gotten up?” I asked.

“Called the coroner to bring the scoop.”

“Assuming that the man was dead.”

Mike swaggered just a little. “The only reason he wouldn’t have gotten up was if he was dead.”

“You’re some tough guy, Flint.” I laughed.

“So you keep telling me. But down here, I’m the only law west of the Pecos.”

He made me laugh again. We had walked about three blocks through scuzz that made the Inferno look like the Home Show.

Looking for Latonya. Flint told me she was an old friend of his. I didn’t want to ask how close a friend, or anything else about her. She had left word for me at the Weingart that she knew where Caesar was cooped for the night and had heard there was twenty dollars in it.

Seventh Street and Wall was her home corner, according to Mike. She seemed to be away on business when we came calling. So we were just moseying around, staying visible until she came back.

As we walked, Flint, The Man, the police, cut a wide swath. No one molested us or panhandled us with very much conviction. I had this great sensation of power just being with him. Besides, he was great company, one outrageous war story after another.

As we turned off Wall Street, a monstrously obese woman barreled down upon us. She had YO BABY YO spray-painted on her short-cropped hair.

“Officer, officer,” she wailed. “He’s stealin’ all my stuff.”

“Who is?”

“My boyfriend. See him? He’s takin’ all my stuff.”

Indeed, a youngish man was snatching dark-looking garments out of a shopping cart that had been spilled onto the weedy verge. Flint just shook his head. “Why is he taking your stuff?”

“He’s gonna sell it. He says I owe him money.”

“Do you owe him money?”

“No way.”

“Yes she do.” The boyfriend joined the fray, tattered clothes spilling over his arms, tangling around his feet as he tried to walk. “She done took my weed. Thirty dollars worth.”

“Do you have his weed?” Flint asked, bland as a schoolmaster.

“No, I don’t,” she said, indignant.

“Yes you do,” the boyfriend screamed.

“I ain’t got it,” she screamed back. “I done smoked it.” I thought the boyfriend would weep.

Flint, who had listened to all of this stone-faced, raised his hand and they both shut up. He pointed down the sidewalk to the left and spoke to the boyfriend:

“Drop all of her stuff right now and get yourself movin’ down the street in the direction I’m pointing. It’s over, understand? If I hear of you coming back and trying something, you know what I’ll do. Right?”

“Yes, officer.”

“Then be on your way.”

Meekly, the boyfriend dumped the clothes and headed off. But the woman still had some unspent fight in her.

“Officer,” she said. “He done got everything all wet, dumpin’ it that way.

Flint pointed down the street to the right. “You heard me. It’s all over. Pick up your stuff and beat it.”

She muttered, but she did as he said.

We walked on.

“I’m impressed,” I said. “Solon couldn’t have handled that better.”

“Who’s Solon?”

“Never mind.”

We walked back up to Latonya’s corner. There was a woman strutting up and down the street in a silver Weingart poncho, flashing passing cars, snuggling up to the derelicts who walked by her. She was skinny. No, she was bones in a push-up bra. There was so little flesh on her legs, I couldn’t see how she stayed atop her spindly, rundown heels. The weather was still a little drizzly, and no one seemed interested in stopping. She yelled obscenities at every car or bum that spurned her advances and passed on by.

“A fifty-one-fifty?” I asked.

Flint grinned at me as he impelled me by the elbow. “That’s our girl.”

“Latonya?” Police or not, I didn’t think Flint was enough protection to keep me safe from this creature. She looked contagious. “Hey, Latonya,” he called.

She wheeled, saw us, completely disregarded me, thank God, and came running up to Flint.

“Mikey, Mikey,” she squealed as she rubbed herself against him. I hung back. Mike turned and grinned nastily at me. I thrust my hands deep into my pockets and just glared back.

“What brings you down to this ‘hood, Mikey?” she crooned. “You come to see me?”

“You left word at the Weingart that you knew where to find Caesar.”

“Maybe I do,” she said coyly. “And maybe I don’t.”

Mike handed Latonya a brown paper bag with a bottle in it. “Brought you something for your trouble,” he said.

She tucked the bottle away in her clothes somewhere without looking at it. “My favorite, Mikey. You’re so nice to your lady.”

“You taking us to Caesar?” he asked.

“What did I hear about a twenty-dollar bill?”

“The usual terms, baby,” he said. “Payment on delivery.”

“You just come with me, sugar.”

It was all I could do to walk behind them. I couldn’t stand it that he let her get so close. I was six feet away and I could smell the dimestore cologne and eau de Thunderbird that enveloped her. All the way down the block, Latonya cuddled Mike’s arm and wiggled against him. I couldn’t hear what she was whispering to him, but he was laughing a lot.

Latonya gave me a malevolent glance, and I flipped her off. Ordinarily, I would have recognized the bile at the back of my throat as jealousy. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself, and I hated myself for being such a twit.

She turned down Sixth Street and pointed out a dumpster behind a sweatshop.

“There he is,” she said.

“Show me,” Flint said.

When she started to go behind the dumpster, I shied back further and scoped out an escape route. It was really dark behind there. Flint hung in with her, so I swallowed my better judgment and went along with them. I didn’t want to look like a wimp after all the hard talking I had done to get Flint to bring me along. Besides, I thought he needed some looking after.

The wind whipping down the street was bitter. Behind the dumpster, there was some shelter. We came upon a silver poncho-wrapped bundle lying on the pavement. Latonya toed the bundle.

“That’s him,” she said.

“You’re sure?” I asked.

“Damn sure,” she huffed, offended. “Fool say, ‘Do me now, I pay you tomorrow.’ This whore ain’t takin’ none of that shit. Uh uh. That’s Caesar, you be sure. He smells like dog.”

Mike slipped her something and patted her back. She strutted off down Sixth Street toward San Pedro, her poncho flapping open to display her fleshless wares.

“Friend of yours, huh?” I said.

“Be nice,” he admonished. “She gave you what you wanted.”

“Are you sure?”

“We’ll see.” Flint squatted down and gave the bundle a good shake. “Caesar, we want to talk to you.”

Caesar’s voice was muffled by the stuff covering his head. “Go way, man.”

“I said, we want to talk to you.”

“What I say? Go ‘way.”

Flint chuckled and gave him a rough push. “Did I forget to say, this is the police? Get out of there, and get out of there, now. You know how we are.”

Caesar’s face appeared out of the silver poncho. I could not have described him to anyone, though I recognized him as soon as I saw him again. He looked up, first at Mike, then at me.

“Am I dreamin’?” he asked.

“You’re asking me?” Mike laughed.

Caesar grinned. “Hello, pretty lady. Nice to see you again.”

“Hello, Caesar,” I said. I knelt down beside Mike. Latonya had been right; the man reeked of dog, among other things. And Mike now reeked of Latonya.

Caesar wiped his nose on the edge of his blanket. “What you doin’ down in this ‘hood?”

“I came to talk to you,” I said. “Last night you gave me a note.”

“Yes I did. Doc give the note to me, say here’s a message.” “Do you remember where you saw her, and about what time that was?”

I don’t have me no watch,” he shrugged. “It were still day-light. I’m startin’ to think about dinner.”

“Where did you see the doc?” Flint asked.

“I’m hangin’ by the wishin’ well, you know? Down there in Chinatown?” He spoke in a fast and steady stream. “Sometimes I can hook me some coin, get me somethin’ to eat. So I’m standin’ there, an’ I see the doc a comin’. She runnin’ a little, you know? Then all of a sudden she stop, like she forget somethin’. She start to go back the way she come. Then she see me. She call me over, she write me this paper. She say, ‘This is a message for my sister, go pin it on the door up at my house.’ I say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’ She give me a dinner ticket for the Center here. Then she go on her way.”

“Where did she go?” I asked.

“Nowhere. She just hang there, by the wishin’ well.”

“Dr. Duchamps gave you the note and paid you,” Flint said. “But you didn’t put the note on her door.”

I mean to, officer. But see, this dude I know, he see what go down, an’ he say, ‘Give you a dollar for that dinner ticket.’ I figure on eatin’ at the mission anyhow, so I say, what you say, man? We trade, dollar for dinner. I was goin’ up to the doc’s house, like she say. But first I stop, get me a short dog to tide me over. Then I guess I forget ‘bout the note for a while. I don’t remember ‘bout it ‘til I hear the doc gets herself shot up. I think to myself, maybe the note mean somethin’. And I don’t want it in my pocket no mo’. Like I say, I’m goin’ up to her house, when I runs into you, pretty lady. An’ I gives you the message, the true words, don’ I? Anyway, I figure that’s way better than pinnin’ it on no door. Man, it be rainin’ hard.”

“Yes it was,” I said. “How did you recognize me? I don’t remember ever meeting you.”

He smiled. “The doc, she puts on the TV at the mission all the time, and she say, ‘See her, she’s my baby sister.’ I know you real well. You ever try makin’ some comedy? You show some sad shit on that TV, man.”

Flint laughed.

“Something to think about,” I said. I doubted whether I could get funding for anything funnier than war or famine.

“After the doc gave you the note,” Flint said, “did you happen to see her again, maybe down the street or inside a shop?”

“No, officer, that were the very last time,” Caesar said, shaking his head sadly. “I go back to the wishin’ well later, lookin’ to hook me some coin, like I say. She be gone.

“How much later?” I asked.

Caesar shrugged. “Long’s it takes to have me a short one.”

“Ten minutes?” Flint asked. “Twenty minutes?”

“More like a half hour,” Caesar said.

Caesar had filled in some of Emily’s last minutes for us, but it wasn’t nearly enough. At the time Emily walked down to the wishing well for her mysterious rendezvous, I was probably either on my way from the airport or sitting on her front stoop. I couldn’t help wondering how differently things might have gone down if Caesar had just delivered his note on time.

Caesar emerged from his silver cocoon to sit crosslegged beside us, putting his face on a level with ours. His breath was indescribable. Flint’s eyes watered and I had to turn my head to get some fresh air. It took a strong stomach, but I hung in there.

“When you saw her,” I asked, “was she alone?”

“Mos’ly. People come by say, hey Doc. But it start rainin’, so not many people were around.”

Flint held a handkerchief over his face. “Did you hear any-thing like a gunshot that afternoon, see anything out of the ordinary?”

“Might be,” Caesar smiled. I don’ hear nothin’. But someone else be lookin’ for the doc ‘bout then.”

“When?” I asked.

“Back then. That same day.”

“Who was it?”

“Some dude.”

“Some dude, huh?” Flint squeezed my hand. “When you saw this man, could it have been around four o’clock?”

” ‘Bout then. Before dinner time.”

“This was when you went to the wishing well the second time. After the doc was gone.”

“Like I say.”

I was excited. “The four o’clock date,” I said, to Flint.

“Could be.” Flint literally held me down. “Let’s hear him out.”

Flint turned from me, back to Caesar. “Did you know the man? Someone from the neighborhood, maybe?”

“Coulda’ been,” Caesar said. There was a crafty look on his grizzled face. “That was some time ago. I can’t exac’ly remember.”

“It was only yesterday,” I said.

Flint held out a five-dollar bill. “Maybe a dollar-and-a-dime will help your memory.”

“Dollar-an’-a-dime, ease my mind.” Two fingers came out of the blanket and hooked the money. “Like I say, I never seen him before.”

“Describe him,” Flint said.

Caesar thought for a moment. “Like the doc. You know, tall dude. Skinny nose.”

“Dark or fair?”

“It’s rainin’. He wear a hat. But he no brother.”

“How old do you think he was?”

He shrugged. He smiled. “Old enough to be out walkin’ by hisself.”

“Okay,” Flint sighed. “Anything else you can tell us?”

“Maybe it’s worth somethin’?” Caesar asked slyly.

Flint shook his head. I already gave you enough for a dollarand-a-dime and a forty ouncer to chase it. If you want to try for a few dummy bumps, keep at it.”

Caesar rubbed his head and grinned up at Flint. “I already got me enough dummy bumps, officer.”

“Then tell me what you know.”

I tell you this. This tall dude, he come up to me an’ he say, do I know the doe? I say she done left already. Nex’ thing, some lady come around, kinds’ hang there by the wishin’ well, lookin’ at him like maybe he want a date. The dude, he walk up to her, real cautious. He call her by some number. He jus’ say, ‘M.’ Like a question, you know, ‘M?’ Like that.”

“What did she do?”

“She say a little prayer. She say, ‘Dear Lord, it’s true.’ Then she take off runnin’.”

“Where did she run to?” Flint asked.

I don’ know. None of my business. I jus’ ke’p on walkin’.”

“What did she look like?”

“She have on a raincoat with a hat on it. Can’t see much.”

“You sure it was a woman?”

“Yeah.” Caesar ran his long, pink tongue over his lips. “She walk the walk. You know.”

I looked up at Flint. “Who do you think?”

He shook his head. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Flint stood up and brought me with him. He reached into his pocket, found some change, then dropped a quarter and his card onto the sidewalk in front of Caesar’s nest.

“You put that coin in your pocket with my number,” he said to Caesar, heavy menace in his voice. “That’s for the telephone. If you start remembering things, or if you hear something, you call me. I already gave you enough money to buy yourself some comfort for the night. If I find out-and you know I will-that you held out because you used that pissy little quarter to buy a pull on someone’s bottle, I’m going to come back and pull your chitlins out of your ears. Got it?”

Caesar cringed, but there was still a simpery smile on his face. “Yes, officer.”

Mike held tightly onto my arm. “Another thing. Better find another place to sleep tonight. If we found you, whoever shot the doc might find you, too.”

“But I didn’ see nothin’,” Caesar protested.

“The shooter doesn’t know that,” I said.

Caesar was on his feet, gathering his meager possessions about him.

“Come with us,” Flint said. “We’ll drop you off in Chinatown. Maybe I can persuade your friend at the Chevron to let you in.”

Away from the dumpster, the night was bitter cold. Trailing his blankets and his poncho, Caesar followed us back to Mike’s car on San Pedro. It took some persuading-he said the last time he was in a police car he was being booked on a fifty-one-fifty charge that got him seventy hours of detention-but he finally climbed into the back seat.

We left him at the Chevron station, amid a slobbery reunion with his dog, and drove up Hill Street to Emily’s apartment with all the car windows rolled down, in spite of the cold.

“Are you coming in?” I asked.

Flint looked up at the three-story building. “Why do you ask?”

“Let me think,” I said. I crossed my arms and slouched down into the seat. “How about, Oh, Mike, I’m so scared to go up there all alone. Will you come and turn on the lights for me?”

“Looks to me like the lights are already on.”

“If you’re going to be difficult, then how about, my friend dropped off some video news footage from the sixties. Maybe you can help me evaluate it.”

“Maybe I can.” He took the keys out of the ignition. “How long do you think it will take?”

I shrugged as I groped for the door handle. “What time is sunrise?”