Murder At the Foul Line by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: detective

GALAHAD, INC. by Joan H. Parker and Robert B. Parker

The lettering on the door said GALAHAD, INC. When Jamal Jones opened the door and went in, there were two white people. The woman was blond with big blue eyes and a wide mouth. Jamal stared at her for a moment. Bitchin’ body. The man was tall and had a mustache. They both smiled at him. Having entered, Jamal didn’t know what to do next.

“I’m Nick West,” the man said. “This is my wife, Holly.”

“Jamal Jones.”

“Come in,” Holly said. “Have a seat.”

Jamal sat. They looked like money to him. White money. Good clothes. Nice perfume. View of the harbor. He felt uneasy. It made him aggressive.

“You ever hear of me?” he said. “I play basketball at Taft.”

“You been suspended,” Nick said.

Jamal had cornrows and baggy clothes and tattoos on his neck.

“Tha’s a bad rap, man,” Jamal said.

“Which is why you’re here,” Holly said.

“I read that article about you in the paper,” Jamal said.

Nick grinned at him.

“The Couple of Last Resort,” Nick said.

“Huh?”

“That was what the paper called us,” Holly said.

“Yeah,” he said, “well, I got suspended for groping some broad at a party and I don’t even know the bitch… excuse me, ma’am.”

Holly smiled. “What’s the bitch’s name?” she said.

“Tricia Clark,” Nick said.

They both looked at him.

“She says at a party you came up behind her and put your hand down the front of her jeans.”

“I never even seen her,” Jamal said.

“How do you know all this?” Holly said to Nick.

“I read the sports pages,” he said.

“Sports pages are boring,” Holly said.

“Only to the unenlightened,” Nick said. “Anybody believe your story?”

Jamal shook his head.

“White girl,” he said.

Nick nodded.

“And a black boy with cornrows and tattoos,” Nick said.

“It’s my look, man. It’s Jamal Jones, and I gonna be Jamal Jones and fuck anybody don’t like it.”

“Temperate and well spoken as well,” Nick said.

“You raggin’ me, man?” Jamal said.

Nick nodded. “A little,” he said.

“Nick rags everyone a little,” Holly said. “But there’s a point there.”

“I didn’t come here to take no shit,” Jamal said.

Lotta times you could give a white guy the angry-brother look and he get scared. Nick didn’t seem to.

“Thing is you look like Whitey Suburban’s worst nightmare,” Nick said. “You’re black. You look black. You sound black. Of course you’d feel up a white coed at a party.”

“Fuck you, man,” Jamal said.

“So what’s your side of it?” Nick said.

“Huh?”

“What’s your side of the story?” Holly said.

“I got no side, except I didn’t do it. Nobody believes it. Soon as the A.D. heard the story he had Coach suspend me. They takin’ ’way my scholarship. I don’t get money I can’t go to school. I don’t go to school I got no shot in the pros.”

“Kids your age are playing in the pros,” Nick said.

“Sure, like LeBron. Well, I ain’t no LeBron. I’m pretty good, but I’m not ready yet and I know it. Couple years, Division I, make a name for myself, I be ready.”

Everyone was quiet. Nick and Holly looked at each other.

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