The Homicide Hustle by Ella Barrick

Author:Ella Barrick [Barrick, Ella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780451239747
Google: e2ANAxucsTwC
Amazon: 0451239741
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2013-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Darkness draped the southeast end of Pennsylvania Avenue. No lights shone from Club Nitro and I realized uneasily that the club must be closed on Sundays. I’d been counting on the presence of dozens of people in line outside the club to make us feel less isolated in the park. I pulled into the empty valet parking lot and parked my Beetle. I hesitated, looking across the street at the seemingly empty park.

“Second thoughts?” Phoebe asked.

“No.” Still, I didn’t open the door.

“Let’s get it over with.” Phoebe got out and I followed suit. “Where does this dude hang out?”

“He was over there Thursday night,” I said, pointing to the spot on the sidewalk that had seemed like the drug dealer’s territory. A kid who couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven leaned against the fence, arms crossed over his chest. A dinged-up pickup slowed at the curb as we watched and the boy exchanged a few words with its occupants, then vanished into the park.

“That kid works for your dealer,” Phoebe said, watching as he reappeared and passed something to the pickup’s passenger. “A bagboy. We’ll start with him.” She stalked across the street, ignoring the van bearing down on her and forcing the driver to stand on his brakes.

I scuttled across the street in her wake, making “so sorry” gestures at the van’s driver. He took off with squealing tires and the odor of exhaust. I didn’t catch what Phoebe said to the kid, but he darted away as I drew even with them.

“I told him his boss—the kid says he goes by Li’l Boni—stands to make some money by talking to us. We’ll see if that gets him. If not, I’m going home. I am not crashing around this park hollering for Li’l Boni.”

“He’s not ‘little’ anything,” I said. As I finished speaking, the man I’d seen Thursday night materialized from the shadows and studied us from ten feet away. He seemed even bigger up close, with a heavy brow, bald head, and a cold stare. His black leather coat sagged down on the right, and I imagined he had a gun in the pocket. I backed up two steps but Phoebe held her ground.

“Rashid tell me you wan’ talk ’bout money.” His voice was a bass rumble that fit with his appearance.

Phoebe looked at me as if to say this was my show. “I’m Stacy,” I said, holding out my hand.

Li’l Boni didn’t even look at it and I let my arm drop to my side, feeling foolish. “There’s a reward for information about Tessa King. I know you talked to her Tuesday night.”

“You don’ know nothin’.” His expression didn’t change.

He was probably right about that. “Um, well, this is Tessa.” I held up the photo from the newspaper that I’d tucked into my pocket. “She was a producer for Ballroom with the B-Listers.”

“I watch dat. I voted for d’other chick.

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