Small Vices (2 page)

I WAS THE only white guy in sight, sitting in an Area B cruiser on Seaver Street, near the zoo, with a cop named Jackson, who was the Community Service officer for District 2. He was a slow, calm, burly guy with gray hair. He had one of those profound bass voices which adds portent to everything said, though he didn't talk as if he knew that.

"Ellis got the same story most of the kids you can see got," Jackson said. He made a graceful inclusive gesture with his right hand.

"His mother's about fifteen years older than he is. She and him live with her mother, his grandmother. Nobody's working. Don't know who the father is. Mother does some dope 'cause she got nothing else that she knows how to do. Grandmother does what she can. Which ain't much. She's got no education. She's got no money. She don't know who fathered her daughter. When Ellis was born, his grandmother was about thirty-two. Ellis don't go to school much. Nobody at his house seems able to get up early enough in the morning to get him there. He's a gang banger soon as they'll have him. Ran for a while with The Hobarts. By the time he's a grown-up he got his career mapped out. He does strong arm, dope dealing, small-time theft. For recreation he molests women. Anybody he seen in his whole life, that he actually knows, who's a success, that's what they do. Michael Jordan may as well be from Mars."

"You think he did the woman in Pemberton?"

"Could have. Don't much matter to me. He's where he should be. I don't never want to see him get out."

"His lawyer thinks he was railroaded because he was black."

Jackson shrugged.

"Probably was. Happens a lot. Because he's black. Because he's poor. Either one is bad, the combination is very bad."

I watched the kids walking past us on the sidewalk. They looked pretty much like any other kids. They were dressed for each other. Oversized clothes, sneakers, hats on backwards, or sideways. Most of them tried to look confident. Most of them were full of pretense. All of them were a little overmatched by the speed at which the world came at them. But these kids weren't like other kids, and I knew it. These kids were doomed. And they knew it. Jackson watched me as I looked at the kids.

"Shame, ain't it?" he said.

"Been a shame for a long time," I said.

"Went to a meeting, couple weeks ago," Jackson said. "Some politician thought it'd be a good idea to get some influential folks together, talk about how to save the children. Asked me to stop by, maybe answer some questions."

"And let me guess," I said. "How many of them had grown up in a project."

"Just me," Jackson said. "They're all white. They all feel that the parents needed to be more involved. They say that they all have faced problems in their schools. Students been defacing desk tops in Marblehead, and they been writing dirty words on the lavatory walls in Newton."

"Better get a police presence in there quick," I said.

"And the whole evening nobody uses the word `black' or the word `Hispanic,' Like there ain't a racial thing going on. Like there's a bunch of white Anglo kids in the inner city, walking around looking for the fucking malt shop. So I say, you people have simply got to stop talking 'bout fucking inner city when you mean black. And you really got to stop talking about fucking parents. Kids in the inner city got the usual biological folks. But mostly they ain't got no fucking parents. Mostly the only family they got is the gang, and the only thing that they can insist on is respect. And the only things they got to insist on it with is balls and a gun."

"Makes you tired, doesn't it?"

"I'm used to it."

"Well, at least they're asking the right questions," I said.

"They ain't asking the right people," Jackson said.

"Hell," I said, "even if they were."

Jackson nodded.

"Yeah. Only thing will help is if people change."

"You think they're going to?"

"Been a cop thirty-four years," Jackson said.

"Yeah."

We were quiet. It was the second Monday after Labor Day, and the kids who went were back in school. It had been a dry summer, but it was promising to be a rainy fall. It had been ominous for five straight days and each day seemed heavier with rain than the last one. The TV meteorologists were almost climactic.

"Just don't get romantic on this one," Jackson said. "Ellis is a bad guy. Maybe he didn't have much choice about that, but it don't mean he ain't bad. You get him loose, you may be doing him a favor. You ain't helping anyone else. And you probably ain't helping him. You get him out, he gonna go back."

I nodded, looking at the still-green leaves stirring apprehensively in the overcast.

"You think you can eliminate crime?" I said. Jackson snorted.

"So what do you do?" I said.

"Do what I can," Jackson said in his deep slow voice. "nere's nobody perpetrating a crime on this corner, right now. That's 'cause I'm here. Somebody's perpetrating something someplace else, maybe, but right now this corner is okay… It's not much. But it's all there is."

"Yeah."

Jackson looked at me for a while. Then he nodded slowly.

"Okay," he said. "You too. Okay."

We were quiet again. The street was almost empty now as if everybody were inside somewhere, waiting for the storm.

"Just don't expect too much from Ellis Alves," Jackson said.

"I expect nothing," I said.

"Be about what you'll get," Jackson said.

SUSAN AND I were sitting together on the couch in my place in front of an applewood fire. She had come straight from work without changing, so she was in a dress and heels. The dress was black and simple and set off with some pearls. Her black hair was shiny and smelled like rain. I had my arm around her, which I was able to get away with, because Pearl the Wonder Dog was asleep on her back, in the armchair next to the fireplace, with her feet sticking up in the air.

"I always felt that Rita Fiore had designs on you," Susan said.

"Me too," I said. "I've always liked that about her."

"I suspect, however, that you are not the only one."

"Boy," I said. "You spoil everything."

"You think I'm wrong? Me, a shrink? And a female shrink at that?"

"No," I said, "I think you're right. That's what spoils it."

"How many times she been married?"

"Twice, she told me."

"Any kids?"

"Not that I know of."

The fire, being expertly built, settled in on itself as the logs burned. Pearl twitched a little in her sleep and made a snuffing sound.

"What do you suppose she's dreaming about?" Susan said.

"Everybody always says chasing rabbits," I said. "But how do they know. She might be dreaming about sex."

"The baby?"

"Maybe," I said.

"I hope not," Susan said. "Are you going to try and get this Ellis person out of jail?"

"I'm going to try and find out the truth," I said.

Susan bumped her head on my chest a couple of times, which seemed to mean approval.

"That's almost always the best thing to know," she said.

"We both have to believe that," I said. "Don't we."

"It's more than wishful thinking," Susan said. "There's a lot of ostensive evidence to support the opinion. Happiness is not the art of being well deceived."

"So much for Alexander Pope," I said.

"So much," Susan said. "You have any champagne?"

"Sure," I said.

"Well, let's drink some."

I got up quietly so Pearl wouldn't wake up and went and got a bottle of Krug and an ice bucket and two glasses. But to get the champagne and the ice for the bucket I had to open the refrigerator door. And Pearl can hear a refrigerator door open anywhere in the northern hemisphere. By the time I got the ice in the bucket, she was beside me, looking in at the open door. I gave her a small piece of the roast chicken we hadn't finished and closed the door and went back to the couch. Susan had her feet stretched out on the coffee table, and when I put the ice bucket down, Pearl jumped up beside her where I had been and went into an unyielding snuggle. I poured us two glasses, put the champagne in the bucket to chill, gave one glass to Susan, and sat down beside Pearl, who was now where she wanted to be, between me and Susan. But she wasn't big enough. I could still reach past her and put my arm around Susan. Which I did. Pearl looked at me. I did not stick my tongue out at her. It is important to win gracefully.

"Have you ever thought of having a child?" Susan said.

"Excuse me?"

"A child. Haven't you ever wanted one?"

"Well, Paul's sort of like my kid," I said. "Not to mention the princess dog."

"I'd like to adopt a baby," Susan said.

I drank my champagne and reached over and got the bottle and poured some more. I drank a little of that.

"You and me?"

"Yes. How long have we been together?"

"We met just after school had opened, about this time of year as a matter of fact, in 1974," I said. "Of course there was a gap back there in 1984/85…"

"And there won't be another one," Susan said. "But I would like a baby."

"A baby," I said.

"Yes."

"And would we move in together and take turns looking after it?"

"No. We could live as we do. I think we need to. The baby would live with me. You would be its father."

"What kind of baby would we get?" I said.

"I don't know. I thought we could talk about it."

"Oh."

"It's not that hard," Susan said. "There are only two choices."

"Yeah."

I finished my champagne and poured some more. Susan's glass was empty so I poured her some as well, which emptied the bottle. I got up and got another bottle and jammed it into the ice bucket to chill.

"So what do you think?" Susan said.

"I don't know. It's a little sudden," I said.

"Yes, I know. I didn't want to broach the subject until I was sure myself."

"A little one," I said, "like a month old?"

"Yes, as young as possible. I'd like as much of the full experience as I can have."

"How much do they weigh when they're that age?" I said.

"Oh, twelve, fifteen pounds perhaps."

"About the size of a small turkey," I said.

"About," Susan said.

I nodded. We were quiet. Susan sipped her champagne, staring into the fire. Pearl's head was in her lap. I patted Susan's shoulder a little.

"I can't make this decision for you," she said finally. "But I don't want to do this alone."

"Be difficult alone," I said.

"More than that, it isn't fair to the child. A child benefits from having a father."

"If he or she can," I said. "Probably better having one good parent than none."

"I don't think I'll want to do this without you," she said.

"You'll never have to do anything without me," I said.

"I know," she said.

And she leaned her head back against my arm and the three of us sat there and looked at the fire.

A STATE COP from the Norfolk DA's office patted Hawk and me down and ushered us into the conference room on the thirty-ninth floor at Cone, Oakes and Baldwin. A couple of guys from the Bureau of Corrections brought Ellis Alves wearing leg irons and handcuffs into the room and sat him in a chair with a great view out the picture window of places he might never visit. They took off the handcuffs and left and it was just Hawk and me and Ellis.

Ellis was tall and bony with high cheekbones and his hair cut short. There were prison gang tattoos on his forearms. He sat straight up in the chair and stared straight at me.

"My name's Spenser," I said.

"So what you gonna do?" he said to me.

"Find out if you did what you're in jail for."

"Sure," Ellis said. He looked at Hawk. "Who this? Your butler?"

"I don't know," I said. "He followed me in."

Hawk looked thoughtfully at Ellis.

"We know you bad, Ellis," Hawk said. "Don't have to keep showing us."

"You ever been inside, bro?"

"Been almost everywhere, Ellis."

"You be inside, bro, you know there's black and there's white and you got to choose."

"Damn," Hawk said. "I been trying to pass."

"What's your name, bro? Your name Tom, maybe?"

"My name's Hawk."

Ellis was too full of jailhouse self-control to look startled. But he was silent for a moment staring at Hawk. Then he nodded slightly and looked back at me.

"So what you want from me, Spenser?"

"Tell me your story," I said.

"I got no story, I'm just another nigger framed by the man."

"Sure," I said. "How'd it happen?"

"How you think?"

"I figure they kidnapped you from church," I said.

"Naw. They come busting in, about eight of them, while I was still in bed. Ten o'clock in the morning. I had a bad hangover. State cops, I think. I never did know for sure. And they haul my ass out to Pemberton. And stick me in a cell in the back by myself. You know, man, my whole life I never been in Pemberton? 'Cept for doing time, I ain't been five miles from Seaver Street."

"You didn't kill this girl."

"No. I tole them that and every time I tole them that the one cop doing all the investigating, State cop, I think, big tall guy, blond hair, real pink cheeks, he talk a lot of trash, 'bout how they know how to handle a buck nigger goes around raping their girls."

Ellis paused a moment thinking about it and shrugged. "After a while couple of people I never heard of pick me out of a lineup," he said. "And then they gimme some preppy bitch probably never been laid, to be my lawyer, and you know she walks me right into the joint."

"You got a theory?" I said.

"Sure, same old honky shit. Something goes down, find a nigger and clear the case."

"How'd they pick you?"

"They want to get me off the street anyway."

"Who they?" Hawk said.

"You ought to know that, bro."

"Yeah, but they a lot of white folks, Ellis. Which one want to get you off the streets?"

"What's the difference?" Ellis said. "They ain't going to help you get me out."

"We're not looking for help," I said. "We're looking for information."

"Well, I already give you all I got," Ellis said.

I looked at Hawk. Hawk shrugged.

"He got no reason to hold back," Hawk said.

I nodded, and looked at Alves.

"You got anything else to say?"

"The cop doing all the talking, out in Pemberton, cop name of Olson? Maybe he know something."

"We'll talk with him," I said.

Ellis looked at Hawk again.

"I heard about you," Ellis said.

"Un huh."

"You willing to work with him?"

Ellis nodded toward me.

"Un huh."

"You trust him?"

"Un huh."

Ellis, still sitting rigidly erect in the chair, looked at me like I was a specimen. He shook his head.

"You ain't got no prayer. They gonna land on you like a truck-load of sludge. You gonna get buried. Like me."

"Probably not," I said.

"They want it buried-they gonna bury it. Even if you white, you helping a nigger, you ain't white no more."

I didn't see anywhere to go with that so I let it pass.

"You got no idea how they happened to pick you to take the fall?" I said.

"None."

"Okay," I said.

I got up and went to the door. I opened it and nodded at one of the guards. They came in, put the cuffs back on Alves, patted him down, and led him. out. He stood absolutely straight as they did this, and when they took him out he didn't look back.

"You in for life," Hawk said after Alves was gone, "hope will kill you. You going to survive, you got to keep your mind steady."

"I know."

"Ain't much else in there but hate and power."

"Better than nothing," I said.