"Y'all are Homicide, too, aren't you?"

Carl said, "You know what we are, but we don't know what you are."

"Man, I told you, I'm a C.I. working for Frank Delsa, Squad Seven. I came over to have a look around."

Art said, "For what, weed?"

"There wouldn't be no dank in here now."

"What're you looking for then?"

"I'll know when I see it," Jerome said.

Art said, "You getting smart with me?"

"You never heard that? I start looking for phone numbers. You look on the wall," Jerome said, "where a phone was somebody ripped out. A man that don't mind messing up his walls."

Carl said, "What's that you got?"

He came over and Jerome handed him the sheet saying, "Twenty thousand reward, man, for Orlando Holmes, but y'all can't collect on it, can you, being with the police."

Art said, "What's he talking about?" and now both the guys were reading the sheet.

Jerome said, "Frank Delsa gave me one. Y'all haven't seen it? They some more stuck on the front of the house."

Art said, "Jesus Christ, we put him away we could score thirty each."

Jerome didn't know what he was talking about but didn't ask. The other one said to him, "See, we been on our vacation, only got back today. We're helping out here till we get, you know, assigned to some squad needs us." He said, "But you can collect this money, huh?"

"Since I ain't on the police, only working for 'em, yeah."

Carl said, "What if we help each other?"

"I don't know," Jerome said, "I guess." He wondered should he ask to see their badges. He said, "Even if you don't get any of the reward we find him?"

"It's all yours," Carl said. "As you say, we can't touch any part of it."

19

Delsawasn't worried about taking down Montez. He believed that once he did, Montez would see he had to deal and give up the two white guys, the shooters. No, Delsa's problem was Kelly Barr. He couldn't stop thinking about her and there was nothing he could do about it, no one he could talk to. Jackie Michaels would roll her eyes at him. "You've known her, what, three days and you're in love, huh? Baby, you need to get laid's all."

It wasn't about getting laid.

It was about her.

It was the cool way she looked at him as she smoked the Slim. It was the confidence she showed in her underwear shots, the low-rise thong and the low-rise v-string, the demure way she crossed her arms to cover her breasts.

It kept getting harder to treat her like a witness. Lying in bed in the early morning, the house still, he would think of reasons to call her.

At his desk later in the morning he punched her number on his phone. He had a real question to ask and it worried him a little.

Wendell Robinson walked in the squad room, came right to Delsa's desk as Kelly's voice said hello.

"Listen, I'm gonna have to call you back. This is Frank Delsa."

She said, "I know who it is."

"I'll get right back to you."

She said fine.

He hung up and Wendell said, "The guy that was shot thirteen times :? You know I gave it to Four when you started losing people. They identified the complainant as Henry Mendez. Street name, Fatboy," Wendell said, "a big P.R. kid twenty years old nobody liked much, but had a '94 Cutlass with nice rims. Last month Fatboy and three homies held up a party store on Springwells. Shots were fired, the manager and the clerk went down behind the counter, nobody was hit. Fatboy, we find out later, waited in the car. The next day he's dead, with all those bullets in him."

"I saw him," Delsa said, "lying in the weeds back of the cemetery. That was three weeks ago."

"That's right, and now just the other day," Wendell said, "three white boys are I.D.'d on the robbery and picked up. Wayne and Kenny, both twenty, and Toody, eighteen, all three on LEIN for B and E, assault, felony firearms. It's this Toody that steps up, the smartest one, and asks can he cop to something else and get a pass on the armed robbery. Toody says all he did was wait in the car with Fatboy. He said it was Wayne shot him. Fatboy was complaining about his cut and Wayne was afraid he'd give them up."

Delsa said, "Who's working it?"

"Eleanor Marsh. You know Eleanor, big, good-looking white woman. Came to Four from Vice about a year ago. She's working with you now. Jackie's got her checking with the Crime Lab on Paradiso and the girl."

"Jackie told me," Delsa said.

"Fine-looking woman," Wendell said. "I know working Vice she liked to get out on the street in a little skimpy playsuit and white boots. You'd see her over on Cass hustling the johns."

"Eleanor and Maureen were good friends," Delsa said. "She'd come over and hang out."

"Well, Eleanor took what Toody said and asked Kenny what he knew about Fatboy getting hit, waving a plea deal on the robbery at him, and Kenny jumped at it. He said they went down by the cemetery looking for a crackhead Fatboy could shoot to prove himself, get off the hook. Only Wayne tells Kenny to give Toody the gun, the Ruger. Kenny's the gun guy. He picks them up different ways, some doing burglaries and sells them. Wayne tells Toody to shoot Fatboy, but he can't do it. He hands the gun to Wayne and Wayne empties it into Fatboy, shoots him seven times in the head, six in the body. So then it's Wayne's turn to be questioned. Eleanor asks him where he was that night. Oh, he was visiting his girlfriend in Clawson. Took her to dinner at the National Coney, Fifteen and Crooks. Wayne stays with that, won't budge, even though his prints are on the Ruger and all over the car, the Cutlass."

Delsa wished Wendell would hurry up.

"Now this jailhouse lawyer named Dominic talks to Eleanor. He's on Four Northeast, same as Wayne and the boys. He says Wayne came to him for legal advice. Said he pumped thirteen bullets into Fatboy, kept shooting even though the man had to be dead. What he wanted Dominic to tell him, would it work as an insanity defense if he started acting crazy?" Wendell shook his head. "They don't think before they shoot somebody. They do all their thinking after." He turned to go and stopped. "Eleanor's coming to see you. Has something looks pretty good from Firearms."

He turned again and walked out.

And Delsa punched Kelly's number. This time he had to wait to hear her voice.

"I'm sorry I had to cut us off."

"That's okay." She said, "Listen, I'm working tomorrow night, a fashion show at the DIA, the art institute. It's black tie, if you want to come."

"I want to stop by, pick up Chloe's driver's license."

There was a pause.

"I have it?"

"I gave it to you the night we left the scene."

She said, "The scene-you mean Paradiso's?"

"You put it in your coat pocket."

She said, "I have to leave soon, drive up to Saks for fittings."

"When can I pick up her license?"

She said, "Let me see if I have it."

The squad room door opened and Wendell came in again, with Eleanor Marsh this time, Eleanor smiling at him, Wendell saying, "I meant to tell you-"

Delsa heard Kelly's voice, "Frank:?"

He held up his hand to Wendell and said to Kelly, "I'm sorry, I'll have to call you back."

This time as he hung up Wendell said, "The guy shot in the SUV on St. Antoine? Remember that one?"

"Last year," Delsa said, "right before Christmas," and watched Eleanor Marsh looking around the empty squad room, Jackie and Harris both on the street. Wendell had it right about Eleanor, a tall, good-looking brunette in a black suit, the skirt fairly short.

Delsa said, "I remember we couldn't get a lead on that one, no witnesses, nothing."

"Let me tell you what happened," Wendell said. "Two boys come along, one of 'em's Maurice Miller. They see the man sitting in his vehicle making a phone call. You like irony? If he'd been talking on the phone while he's driving, he'd be alive today. The two boys go in the grocery store right there, come out, the man's still talking on the phone. They run around the corner, down the block to Maurice's house. They come back with a nine and Maurice shoots the man in the head. They gonna jack the car. But now it's all messed up inside with the man's blood, his brains, hair stuck to the windows. They don't want the car now."