Dead Red (15 page)

Before I realized it, I had walked about two blocks and found myself in front of a pizza place. This was not my neighborhood, so I’d never been to this restaurant, but it did remind me of one not too far from here where I
had
been. And where I knew just the right person to help me identify the girl on my phone.

If he’d talk to me, that is.

*   *   *

Unlike the last time I’d been here, this time the door was open and nobody gave me any shit as I walked in. And just like the last time I had been here, the place smelled wonderful. The air was filled with the aroma of baking bread, tomato sauce, and roasting garlic. They could bottle that smell, put it in a spray can, and make a fortune. I stepped up to the counter and watched a tall kid wearing a red-and-white baseball cap deftly slip a new pie into the pizza oven. When he closed the oven door, he turned around and said, “What can I get ya?”

I knew I wanted two mushroom slices and a Diet Pepsi, but what came out of my mouth was, “Boo?”

The kid looked at me and showed no recognition at first. He squinted and then a small grin formed. “Teacherman!” he said, sticking his hand over the counter so we could fist bump. “Whatchoo doin’ here? Tio didn’t say he was ’specting you.”

“Damn, Boo. What are they feeding you? You’re a foot taller than the last time I was here.”

He fingered the little bit of hair he had on his chin. “Tio know you was comin’ by?” All business now, and not the pizza kind.

“I was in the neighborhood and wanted some pizza. I also wanted to talk to Tio, so…”

“What kind you want?”
Now
it was pizza business.

I looked up at the menu board and saw nothing that changed my mind. “Two mushroom slices and a large Diet Pepsi. Is Tio around?”

Boo separated two mushroom slices from their brothers and put them in the oven. Then he took a large cup, filled it with ice and soda, and handed it to me. “Not my business to know where Tio is, Teacherman. If he ain’t ’specting you, he could be anywhere, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Can you call him for me? I kinda need a favor.”

Boo took the red-and-white hat off his head and wiped his brow. “I thought you and Tio was all done doin’ each other favors.”

“We were, but something came up, and I figured Tio could help me out.”

Boo shook his head. “Shoulda called first. Can’t just drop in ’specting to find Tio around here. He a busy man.”

“I’m sure he is, Boo. But maybe you can give him a call while I eat my lunch? Tell him I’m here and want to talk?”

He flashed me that grin again. “Now you wanna favor from
me
?”

“I’ll make it up to you. I’m an excellent tipper.”

The grin widened. “I remember you thought you was funny.”

He took my slices out of the oven. After sliding them onto a couple of plates and putting them on a tray, he handed them to me. “Five bucks,” he said.

I looked up at the menu. He should’ve been charging me seven-fifty. Boo saw me looking at the sign. “Teacher discount.”

I handed him a twenty. “You’ll make that call?”

He shrugged. “I was gonna give him one anyway, Teacherman. Let him know how the morning went. Maybe I’ll mention you here.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

He gestured with his chin at my food. “Enjoy your lunch.”

“Thanks.”

I took my lunch over to a booth that had a view of the TV. Last night’s Yankees game was on with the sound muted. Just as well; they had lost pretty badly. I sprinkled some hot pepper flakes on my slices and took a bite. Delicious. I remembered the breakfast Boo had made for me last year when I had first come here asking for his boss’s help. Boo had a definite future in the food industry.

I was halfway through my second slice when the door to the restaurant opened. I turned to see two young men enter, both wearing New Orleans Saints jerseys, followed by the man I’d come to see. I’d only met him a few times, but was surprised he wasn’t wearing his customary Saints jersey. He had on a white polo shirt, tucked into a pair of khakis. He saw me, nodded to his boys, and they exited. Tio walked over to me and I stood up.

“No jersey?” I asked.

“Took it off to take care of some business,” he said. “I was upstairs showing some folks an apartment.”

“You’re into real estate now?”

“I bought the building last year. Owner was letting it go to shit, wanted to spend his final years in F-L-A. We came to an agreement, and now I’m a landlord.”

“You never fail to surprise, Tio.”

He ignored that. “You here for the lunch special?”

“If it comes with a conversation, yes.”

“What if it don’t?”

I looked down at the rest of my meal. “It was worth the trip anyway.”

“Good answer. Finish up. I’ll be right back.”

I watched as he walked through the swinging door, past the pizza ovens, and into the back rooms. I sat down and finished eating, and spent another five minutes watching last night’s Yankees pitcher getting knocked around. Mercifully, Tio came back and slid into the booth across from me. Now he was wearing his Saints jersey with the not-so-subtle number 1 on it.

“What do you need to conversate about, Teacherman?”

“I need some help finding a girl.”

“I know that story.”

I laughed, pulled my cell phone out, and handed it to Tio. “This girl.”

Tio looked at the picture for a good thirty seconds before speaking.

“She another student of yours?”

“No. I’m … helping out a friend. She’s the friend of a missing kid, and my friend’s looking for the missing kid.”

“You quit teaching? Gone all Shaft on me?”

“Just helping out a friend.” I told him about Jack Knight and how he’d been hired by the Goldens to find their daughter.

“Yeah,” Tio said. “Seen that on TV. You goin’ after that fifty G’s?”

“Not exactly. I mean, if we find her, yeah, there’s that; but right now I’m just trying to get a name to go with that face.” I pointed at my phone.

Tio looked at it again. “And this is some face, Teacherman. You know how old this chick is?”

“Based on that picture, around eighteen. I’ve seen another photo where she looks younger. It’s hard to tell.”

“I hear that. Know some guys got into trouble ’cause it’s hard to tell sometimes. Fourteen’ll get you ten, know what I’m saying?”

“So…”

“Nope.” He handed me my phone. “Don’t know who she is, but I’ll tell you what. Text that picture to me.”

He gave me his number. Tio’s phone dinged. Message received. Maybe I wasn’t such a techno idiot after all.

“You’ll show that around?”

“Do better than that,” he said. “I’ll send it out to my boys and see who comes up with what. You willin’ to share some of that reward?”

“That’s not my call, Tio. I’ll pose it to my friend and see what he says.”

“You do that. Tell him one of my boys comes up with a name to go with that pretty face, it’ll cost him.”

“Like I said, I’m not the boss.”

“That’s more’n fair, Teacherman. I’m letting you use my network.”

“And I appreciate any help you can throw my way.”

“Works both ways. What’s that Latin thing? The one that Hannibal Lecter said to Jodie Foster?”

I thought back, and it took five seconds to come up with the quote from
Silence of the Lambs
.

“
Quid pro quo
?”

“That’s it. Used to think that sounded like some kinda seafood.”

I slid out of the booth, smiling.

“You find me charming or something?” Tio asked, referring to my smile.

I stuck out my hand. “I find you one of the least boring people I’ve ever met, Tio.”

He shook my hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“That’s how it was meant.”

He held his phone out for me to see. “I’ll get this out to my peeps. I got your number now, so either way I’ll give ya a call in the next two days.”

“That’ll be great,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Cool. You be careful now.”

“That’s always my plan.”

He picked up the remains of my lunch and piled it on the tray. “You should come by again, Teacherman. Try Boo’s eggplant lasagna. Bring the girlfriend.”

“How’d you know I have a girlfriend?”

He just smiled, turned around, and handed my tray to Boo. Without turning around he said, “Later,” and disappeared into the back.

Chapter 13

THE TEMPERATURE WAS EASILY IN the mideighties when I left Tio’s, and I didn’t feel like waiting around for a bus or heading underground to the subway. I decided to walk home. If a bus came along before I got halfway, I’d jump on, but I wasn’t counting on it. Midday busses are few and far between. I bought a shaved cherry ice from a guy on the corner and started making my way down the avenue.

Ten minutes later, I had finished my ice and found myself a few blocks from the L train. At the corner of Ainslie and Graham, it dawned on me that this was the street where Ricky T had lived with his mother. I pulled out my cell, googled Mrs. Torres’s name, and got the address. I was right. I’m not usually the type to just drop on by without calling, but this time I could honestly play the I-was-in-the-neighborhood bit. The worst that could happen is I’d have gone a few blocks out of my way. If I got the feeling I was unwanted, I’d leave.

Ainslie was a nice tree-lined street with a lot of two-story attached houses. The families who lived on this block had been here for years and were largely Italian. A teacher I used to work with lived on the top floor of one of these houses years ago, and he told me stories about how his landlady was always knocking on his door with “extra food.” He swore she was trying to fatten him up and set him up with her niece. I looked into a few backyards and could see grapevines hanging from trestles, providing not only shade, but also the fruit for homemade wine. Not the image that earned Williamsburg its reputation for being “the coolest place on Earth.” One of the other Williamsburgs.

I stopped in front of the Torres house and noticed that all the curtains were pulled. There was a black wreath on the front door. I thought about heading home and coming back another time. The signs of mourning made me regret my decision to drop by unannounced. Before I could make up my mind, the front door opened and out walked Ricky’s brother Robby. He was with Ricky’s service buddy I had met the previous day, Jimmy Key. Robby looked surprised to see me and walked over to where I was standing.

“Ray,” Robby said, shaking my hand. “Mom expecting you?”

“No,” I said. “I was running some errands and thought I’d swing by, but…”

“No, it’s okay. But Mom just took a sedative and she’s out of it. I’m hoping she finally gets some sleep. You remember Jimmy?”

“Sure.” We shook hands. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going,” he said. “I meant to ask you yesterday, you the chief’s kid?”

“Nephew. You a cop?”

“Private security.”

“Back in the city? Big difference from Iraq, huh?”

“Yeah, but some days, I’m not sure which is worse.”

“Oh, shit,” Robby said and walked back to the house. He reached into the mailbox and pulled out the contents. He came back over to us. “Gotta get the mail before Mom does. Anything addressed to Ricky sets her off again.”

He flipped through the envelopes and was about to tuck them inside a catalogue when something stopped him. He got a weird look on his face.

“What’s up?” I said.

“I don’t know,” Robby answered. He let Jimmy and me see the front of the envelope. The return address had a logo that read, “VA Home Loans.” It was addressed to Mr. Richard Torres. Strange to see Ricky T’s name so formalized.

“Veteran’s Administration,” Jimmy observed. “Ricky say anything about buying a house?”

Robby shook his head. He opened the envelope and took out the contents. He unfolded and flipped through the pages as Jimmy and I stood there quietly. After a minute, Robby said, “Says he’s been approved for a home loan for up to seven-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars.”

We all let that sink in.

“You knew nothing about this?” I asked Robby.

“He said he wanted to move out of Mom’s. But I figured he meant
renting
an apartment, not buying one.” He waved the papers in the air. “And for seven hundred and fifty thou? Where the hell was he gonna get the money to make the payments on a seven-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollar mortgage?”

“Not on a cop’s salary,” Jimmy said.

“Can I see those papers?” I asked. I took them from Robby and did as he had done: I flipped through them—as if I’d understand something just by touching it. There were two things I did understand: the interest rate was pretty low; and Ricky’d be paying it off for a little under two thousand dollars a month. That would take a while, but put like that, it didn’t seem completely out of the realm of possibility. I guessed if he did go back to the cops, he’d be relying on one of the street cops’ best friends: Oscar Thomas.
OverTime.
I handed the papers back to Robby. “I guess you don’t wanna ask your mom, huh?”

“Ahh, no,” Robby said. He folded the papers and slipped them back inside the envelope. “I’ll call them up and let them know about Ricky.” He looked at his watch. “Maybe I should do that now. I don’t want Mom seeing any more mail from these guys. All she needs now is to know Ricky was going to move out and buy his own place.”

He stuck his hand out to Jimmy Key and me. “Thanks for coming by, guys. I’ll let Mom know you dropped by, Ray.”

“Thanks. Tell her I’ll call next time.”

“Cool.” He pointed back at the house. “I’m gonna go make that call.”

“Be good, man,” Jimmy said. “When you heading back up?”

“Tomorrow. Gotta show an apartment to some college kids, and one of the year-round tenant’s toilet keeps backing up. My boss already gave me two more days than I asked for.”

“An overflowing toilet waits for no man,” I said, but no one laughed.

“Take it easy, guys.” Jimmy and I watched as Robby went back inside.

When the front door had shut, Jimmy turned to me. “I don’t know about you, but I could really use a beer at this moment.”

“Yeah,” I said. “A beer right now would not suck.”