Chapter 7

There was more water flowing at Davida's funeral than a busted shower. Mostly it was Alicia, Isabel, and more cousins than any one family should have. The way the priest said his eulogy, you'd have thought she'd been giving out food and candy to kids in the streets. The picture they put on the front of the program book was one of the few from her portfolio where she hadn't turned on the sex. The photographer must have told her to go for the innocent look. That turns a lot of dudes on.

Like I figured, there were a couple of news crews there too. It wasn't Metro front page stuff, but there had been one item in the paper about her murder, with me linked to her. That's how them jokers at the Times put it, so you could read between the lines, nodding your head over morning coffee. "Yeah," they'd be saying, "we know that nigger did it." Uh huh.

"Zelmont, isn't it strange that this happens after your return to Los Angeles." It was that uptight skank Lisa Choo from Channel 5.

"I think it's a tragedy." I was using the lines from the second episode of that show I did for a hot minute on the WB. The one where my best friend from the old neighborhood is killed. "The police must find who did this."

"You have any ideas?"

Jam that mike up your drawn-up ass. "No, but of course I'll do everything in my power to see that Davida's death is answered for." That sounded pretty good. Her sister was looking at me, dabbing at her red eyes.

Afterwards, we gathered at Isabel's swank pad in Montebello.

There were hip-hoppers, cholos from the old 'hood, other chicks like Davida who had booty but little talent. They were all yappin' at each other, mixing English and Spanish. I stepped out on the patio to get some air. I'd done my duty, been seen in public at the funeral to stall out speculation and finger pointing.

There were people out in the yard too, holding onto paper plates with food or sipping on soda and juice. Isabel had a golden retriever that romped around, wagging its tail and barking to get your attention.

"I was kinda surprised to see you at the funeral." Isabel had come up beside me so quiet, I hadn't heard the sliding glass door open.

"What are you talking about, girl?" She was looking good. Women in black dresses and nylons always got me charged.

She flicked her head to one side. "You didn't love her."

"I didn't hate her."

"You played rough." She gave me that fake innocent look her sister had on the cover of the funeral program.

"How would you know?" I got closer.

Before I could get an answer, Alicia stepped outside.

Her daughter put on the right face and placed her arms around her mother's waist. "It's okay, mama, it's going to be okay"

Alicia used a soggy Kleenex to tap at her eyes. "It's just so wrong, isn't it, Zelmont?"

"Yes it is." I tried to keep from looking at Isabel's legs.

"I think it was one of those crazy rappers she was hanging around with," her mother went on. "All the time singing about killing policeman and doing terrible things to women." Her whole body shook. ''I told that officer that too."

I was surprised Fahrar hadn't come to the funeral, hoping I'd break down crying and make a confession at the graveside. "He's steady on the case, he'll find out who did this."

She reached out a hand and I had to take it. The three of us stood there like we were in one of Nap's self-realization meetings. I looked over Alicia's head at Isabel. She just stared at me, making me work to get inside her head.

I stayed around a little while more, then split. I didn't get a chance to say much else to Isabel, but she gave me her business card, the home phone number written on the back. I drove out to the Valley to see how Nap was getting on.

''Mr. Raines, Mr. Raines." Burroughs came up to me, his boat end of a face yellow from whatever narcotics he was currently popping. "Your smile is your umbrella today, isn't it?" He used his bony fingers to feel the material of my sleeve. "Dark material becomes you."

"Where's Nap, doc? You got him hooked up to one of your joy juice IVs?"

He leaned back, holding his hands in front of his long body. "Such a mordant wit."

He was too much. Burroughs buttoned up his sport coat. He rolled his tongue around in his mouth like he was looking for a taste he couldn't get enough of. "Nap's out jogging. Should be back in a few ticks, I believe you'd say" He turned away, and a dude I recognized from one of those hot sheet soap operas they got on at night came shuffling out of a side hall. He was in a silk bathrobe and ratty-ass slippers with an old school small-brim hat on his head. He went up to the doc looking like a lost dog.

"I'm paying premium dollars for you to take care of me." He played a spoiled rich boy on the show, and now I could see it wasn't much of a stretch for him. Burroughs leaned into him, putting his arm around his waist like he was a hottie. He planted that skull's smile of his on the dude, his eyes glittering like I'd seen psychotic linemen get after taking a running back's head off.

"Yes, of course, young sir, Doctor Burroughs is only here to accommodate you. Yes, of course."

The kid bobbed his head up and down like that's the way it was supposed to be. Burroughs put an arm on his shoulder and walked him down the hall. He looked back at me, a nothing emotion on his face. Then the doc followed the young actor into his room.

I found Nap doing cool-down stretches on the side of the clinic, in a kind of garden area with orange and purple flowers. The only thing I knew the name of was the cactus. There was a lot of cactus.

"You back on it, huh?"

"Getting there. Wilma told me your tryouts have been going good."

He left words hanging off the end of what he'd said. "Looks like I'll get to the exhibition games, then should be gettin' my slot on the regular."

Nap rotated his big shoulders and crossed his legs at the ankles. He bent over, his palms flat to the ground. "What about Rudy?"

"What about him? Danny only capped one of his boys. You said yourself it was just business. Well, now he understands we can't be punked."

Nap straightened up. "We?"

"I get on the Barons, I got bread. I got scratch, I'm a partner, right?"

Nap rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "I wish it were that simple, Zelmont. I'm into Chekka large."

"Yeah, so, I know that."

"So why in the hell would Stadanko let you on the team when he's in bed with his cousin? Neither one is gonna be willing to let you butt fuck them and take what they want for your own."

"They don't want the Locker Room, do they?" I asked. "It's money the two of them greedy fucks want."

Nap started walking, his hands on his hips. "I'm not sure, Zee. It would make sense for them to want the club it's a happening venue and washing money through it would be easy. Plus the joint gives them an excuse to rub shoulders with all kinds of people Chekka can get his hooks into." He worked his jaw muscles. "I originally assumed Rudy had me snatched on his own"

"Yeah," I blurted, interrupting him as I walked beside him. "The way Wilma broke it down to me, Rudy's the sure-nuff gangster and Stadanko's just a prop."

The big man was quiet, then said, "Stadanko may have more to do with his cousin's business than Wilma thinks. And anyway, after y'all rescued me I was going to close the place down, but I realized that would be a mistake. I can't show weakness to Stadanko or Chekka. On the other hand, I need to lay low for a while to get back in peak form and set things up for the job."

We had stopped in front of a window with the blinds shut inside. Suddenly Burroughs looked out through a slat, his eyes roving over us. He winked and shut the blinds again.

I tugged on Nap's buffed arm, pulling him away from the window and the doc's big ears. "You and Wilma gonna try and rip homeboy off?"