True Blue

CHAPTER 56

THE PEOPLE at Social Services working with Abe Altman were both extremely helpful and laudatory of the wealthy professor.

“He’s a man with vision,” said the supervisor, Carmela, a young Hispanic woman with straight dark hair and dressed in a pleated skirt and blouse and flats. “He gets it.”

“Well, I hope I get it too,” said Mace.

They were sitting in the woman’s office, a ten-by-ten square with a rusty window AC unit that didn’t work. There were water stains on the ceiling and walls. The furniture looked like it had been rescued from the dump and the clunky computer on her desk was at least a decade old. The government purse had clearly not been opened very wide to outfit this place.

She said, “Mr. Altman mentioned that you used to be a cop.”

“Don’t hold that against me.”

“I won’t. My older brother drives a scout car right here in Seven D.”

“Then he’s got his hands full.”

“You know this area?”

“Used to be my old stomping ground.” Mace glanced down at the sheaf of papers in her hand. “So these are all the names?’

“Yes. We’ve made contact and they will be expecting you at whatever meeting times you give us. After you called to say you were on your way, I made contact with Alisha, the first on the list. She’s expecting you in the next thirty minutes.” She glanced at Roy. “You look like a lawyer.”

“Mr. Kingman is assisting me in this project.”

The woman gave him an appraising look. “You ever been down this way?”

“Was down in Six D just last night if that counts.”

She looked surprised. “What for?”

“Looking for some excitement. And I found it.”

“I bet. Well, the places you’ll be going are a little rough.”

“I assume that’s why we’re going to them,” answered Mace. “We’ll be okay.”

“How rough?” Roy wanted to know.

“Even my brother doesn’t like taking calls at some of the places on your list, unless he has a couple units as backup.”

Roy glanced at Mace with a worried look. “Really?”

“Thanks, Carmela,” said Mace, tugging on Roy’s arm. “We’ll be in touch.”

They climbed back in the Honda. Mace read through the file and said, “Okay, Alisha Rogers here we come.”

Roy had been reading over her shoulder. He said, “She’s only sixteen and already the mother of a three-year-old?”

“Don’t sound so stunned. We left the world of Leave It to Beaver a long time ago.”

He read off Alisha’s address. “Do you know where that is?”

“Yep. Middle of Cheerio Alley. How do you like your Cheerios, Roy?”

“Usually without OxyContin. How exactly are we supposed to go into places where the police don’t want to go and come out reasonably healthy?”

“It’s a little late to be asking that, isn’t it?”

“Humor me.”

“We’re going to help people, not bust their ass. That’ll count for something.”

“That’s it? We just tell them we’re here to help people and the dangerous seas will part? This isn’t a Disney flick.”

“I never took you for a cynic.”

“I’m not a cynic. I just want to go home alive tonight.”

Mace’s smile faded. “Never a bad goal to have.”