The Man in 3B (29 page)

I wished that I could close my eyes and see an image of Daryl in his Knicks sweat suit, stretching on the sidewalk before his run. Instead, I kept replaying yesterday’s scene, when they wheeled his
body out on a stretcher to take it to the morgue. There’s nothing like seeing a dead body to remind us all that life is short and we never truly know when the end is coming.

“Going somewhere?” Bertha asked, looking up from her morning coffee to check out my outfit. Instead of my usual morning attire of slippers and housecoat, I was wearing my Sunday best, including a hat and a curly wig.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I thought I’d head over to First Jamaica and listen to Bishop Wilson preach.”

“You’re going to church?” she said with wide eyes, looking like she thought the church might catch fire when I walked through the door. That pissed me off. I wasn’t the biggest churchgoer—mainly only for holidays and funerals—but Bertha had some nerve because she wasn’t much better.

“Yes, Bertha,
I’m
going to church. You got a problem with that?” I placed a hand on my hip and stared at her hard.

She twisted up her lips but was smart enough not to insult me again. “No, I don’t have a problem with it,” she said. “I’m just surprised is all. I need to be going over there with you.” She gave me an apologetic shrug that put her back in my good graces.

I exhaled. “With all that happened yesterday, what do I have to lose by going? I’m not sure if I’d call it salvation or not, but I’ll take whatever I can get for as long as it takes. I just don’t want to end up like—”

My words got caught in my throat, and I was surprised to find my eyes starting to tear up.

Bertha finished my sentence. “Like Daryl.”

“Yeah,” I said through the lump in my throat. “You didn’t see when they wheeled him outta here yesterday, Bertha. It was enough to change your life.”

“Oh, I saw him,” she said somberly, shaking her head. “That was the saddest thing I ever saw, and I’ve lived me some years and seen a lot of things. That boy was nice, a real gentleman. He didn’t deserve that.” She stared off into the distance for a few seconds and then looked up at me, her mood suddenly lifted.

She said, “Oh, by the way, you owe me ten dollars.”

“Owe you ten dollars for what?”

“I told you that fire was suspicious. Daryl’s death wasn’t an accident.”

“What? Where’d you hear that?” I eyed Bertha skeptically. She’d been known to make up her own truths, so I knew better than to believe her without verifying her sources first.

“That’s what Connie told me when she came back from the precinct last night.”

While the firemen were working inside to secure the building, a few detectives had hung around outside, talking to all of us residents on the sidewalk. They were pretty slick, making it look like simple conversation when they were really investigating. I actually felt kind of stupid, because I’d been right there, running my mouth about everything I knew about everyone in the building. You know, stuff like who was sleeping with who and who had been arguing lately. For me that was just everyday gossip. I didn’t even realize the cops were using me to gather evidence until I watched them ask Ben, Benny, Connie, Krystal, and Slim to go down to the precinct for some “routine questioning,” as they put it. I might not have run my mouth so much if I had realized it was a murder, not an accident.

Now I was bothered by two things: the fact that I had given up so much information so easily and the fact that Bertha had gotten the 411 before me.

“Bertha, are you sure?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm,” she said proudly, obviously relishing the fact that she was one up on me and ten dollars richer. “But that’s not even the good part. Guess who didn’t come home from the precinct last night?”

She didn’t even give me time to try to guess before she told me, “Your girl Krystal and her boy Slim.”

“Shut up!” I felt that familiar rush that always accompanied some really juicy gossip. “You don’t think…?”

“Look, I don’t make the news, I report it. But any fool can see when five people go down to the police station to be questioned about a killing and only three return, someone’s in trouble.”

I had to admit her logic was sound, but I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of thinking I was hanging onto her every word. If I did, I’d never hear the end of it. “Hmph! That don’t mean nothing. Maybe they just went to a hotel or snuck in here after you went to bed.”

Bertha’s look of pride disappeared.

“I don’t care what you say, Bertha. I believe deep down that girl loved Daryl. She wouldn’t do anything like that to hurt him. You don’t remember the way she used to look at him?”

“Mm-hmm, I sure do,” she said. “But I also remember the way Slim used to look at him too. I’d never seen that much hate and jealousy in a man’s eyes. If looks could kill, Daryl would be dead.”

“Daryl
is
dead, Bertha.”

She lifted her finger and made a check mark in the air. “Exactly my point!”

I shook my head at her foolishness. I thought I loved gossip, but this woman was taking it to the next level. “I hear you, Nancy Drew, but before you start pointing the finger, you better make sure Slim did it. Last thing you wanna do is start accusing Slim of murder. We all know what he’s capable of, and neither of us wants that. Hell, we don’t even know for sure that Daryl was murdered.”

A male voice came from the sidewalk. “I do!”

We turned to see two people getting out of an unmarked police car that might as well have had
POLICE
written all over it. Well, at least now that everything had calmed down it was obvious to me that they were cops. Why couldn’t I have been that observant yesterday when I was giving up all that information? One of the cops was a tall white man, the one I spilled my guts to yesterday, and the other was a brown-skinned woman who flashed her badge as if we couldn’t tell they were five-o from a mile away.

“I told ya he was murdered.” Bertha tapped my leg excitedly. When I finally nodded my head in acknowledgment, she stuck out her hand and said, “Gimme my ten dollars.”

I shoved her hand away. “Have y’all arrested the killer, detective?” I asked, testing Bertha’s theory on Slim and Krystal.

“Not yet, but we’ve got some good leads, Mrs….” The man turned
to me, looking upward as if he was about to pull my name out of the air. Instead, he flipped through his notepad to find it. “Mrs. Williams, isn’t it? Nancy Williams?”

“Yeah.” I tried to sound confident, but inside I was scared to death. Why did this guy remember my name, and even scarier, why was he back here looking like he had more questions? When I was talking to him yesterday, I had been too embarrassed to tell him I was on my way up to Daryl’s apartment right before the fire broke out. How was that going to sound after I’d already told him I was married? I might not have cared what the girls on the stoop thought, but I wasn’t trying to look like a slut in front of a total stranger. Now I was afraid that one of those jealous bitches might have said something to him, and now he was back, trying to pin a motive for murder on me. But then he spoke, and I realized the detectives were here for a very different reason.

“Well, Nancy, you were really helpful yesterday, and I was hoping you could help us again, you know, fill in a few of the missing pieces.”

Shit, shit, and more shit!
They were gonna haul my ass down to the precinct like they’d done the others. I mean, I felt bad that Daryl was dead, but I sure as hell didn’t want to go with them and then be pegged as the building’s snitch.

Before I could try to talk my way out of it, Bertha spoke up. “Oh, please. Y’all don’t need any help. You already got the killers down at the station, don’t you? Everyone knows Krystal and Slim had something to do with that fire.”

“Oh, really? Why is that?” the female detective asked, pulling out her own notebook.

“Because right before the fire, the two of them came busting out the building like the world was about to end. Ain’t that right, Nancy?” Bertha winked, then nodded her head like she’d just spoken the gospel.

Even though it was Bertha who was running her dentures, the female detective looked to me for confirmation. “That true? You saw them running out of the building?”

My eyes shifted to Bertha, trying to send her a message to shut her trap. I looked back to the detective, who was waiting for my answer with pen poised over her paper, ready to take notes.

I realized these cops weren’t going away without some answers. Like an idiot, I’d already shown them yesterday that when it came to info about the folks in our building, I was the one to go to. There was no way they’d believe me if I told them I didn’t know anything all of a sudden. “Look,” I answered reluctantly, “I don’t know if they’re guilty or not.”

The male cop raised his eyebrows and said, “But…?” letting me know they weren’t going to accept a half-assed answer.

“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “It
was
kinda strange the way they came barreling out the building like they were running from a fire.”

“Who knew they really were?” Bertha said with a laugh. She folded her arms as if she’d stated her entire case. “So, you gonna arrest them now? If you need me as a witness, I’ll testify.”

The female cop turned to Bertha and spoke slowly, like she was talking to a senile person in a nursing home. “Well, ma’am, I’m not sure we’re ready for an arrest, but I can promise you we’ll look into it. Right now we have a few other leads we’re looking at.”

“Really? Like who?” Bertha asked.

The cops glanced at each other in a way that said Bertha was working their last nerves. She was a little too damn eager to know everything. I, on the other hand, wished we could hurry up and get this over with.

Instead of answering Bertha’s question, the male detective turned to me. “Mrs. Williams, can we talk to you privately for a second?”

Bertha made this grumbling noise, like she was insulted they didn’t come to her. What the fool didn’t know is that I would have been happy to change places with her. I followed the detectives away from the stoop toward their car, but fortunately, we didn’t get in.

“How can I help you?” I leaned against the car, not because I felt relaxed, but because my knees were so wobbly I needed it for support.

“Well, for starters, do you really think Slim and Krystal had
something to do with the death of Mr. Graham?” the male detective asked me. Unlike yesterday when he made it seem like we were just having a conversation, now he was all business.

I thought about his question and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess. I mean, there are probably other people who didn’t like him. It’s not like I was close to the guy and knew everyone he hung out with. Maybe he had beef with lots of people… but yeah, as far as the tenants in the building, I guess they’re at the top of my list.”
Shit!
Why was I rambling? I’d already said way more than I wanted to. My big mouth was going to get me in trouble if I didn’t learn to shut up.

“Listen,” I continued, “I’m not like Bertha. I’ll help you, but I ain’t testifying about shit. If what you say is true and Daryl was killed, I don’t wanna be next on the list, especially if we’re talking about Slim.”

“Why’s that? What’s so badass about him?” the woman asked.

“He’s a drug dealer. A murdering drug dealer from what I’ve heard.” There I went again, speaking without thinking. The problem was, once I’d said it, I couldn’t take it back. Now the cops would pump me for even more information about Slim—a man I’d just admitted was capable of murder.

“Interesting. You sure about that?” The female detective raised an eyebrow at her partner as he continued to write in his pad. “We ran his name and nothing came up.”

Oh, hell. I’d already practically dug my own grave, so why not keep talking? Maybe he did really kill Daryl. At least if they arrested him for it, then I’d be out of danger. I asked, “Did you run it down south? He doesn’t sell around here anymore, mostly in Virginia, I think. I’m pretty sure he has a record down there, and he definitely sells drugs. Of that I’m sure.”

The male detective closed his notebook and reached out to shake my hand. “Thank you. You’ve given us a lot to think about.”

I shook his hand and then looked over to Bertha, who I knew was damn near about to soil her Depends waiting on me to bring her back the scoop.

The female officer put a hand on my shoulder and said, “I know
this isn’t easy, but you’re doing the right thing. If you could help us out a little more by being our eyes and ears in the neighborhood, it would be appreciated.”

Oh my God. This kept getting worse for me. “Why me?”

“I don’t know, Nancy,” the male said, suddenly all chummy again. “You seem to tell it like it is. And something in my gut says you’re the right person for the job. But if my gut’s wrong, we can talk to your friend Bertha over there. She seems real cooperative too.”

We all glanced over at Bertha, who was practically drooling on herself, waiting for a chance to get in on the action. As much as I didn’t like talking to the cops, I couldn’t help myself. I was not about to lose my top spot on the stoop by letting her outscoop me.

“No,” I told him, “your gut’s right. Bertha doesn’t have a subtle bone in her body.” Something told me today wasn’t the day I was going to go see about saving my soul. It was more like the day I was going to be playing with the devil.

The female officer spoke up. “Well, then, while we’ve got you here, there is one other neighbor we’d like to ask you about.” She glanced over at her partner, who was frowning. Whatever she was about to ask, he was not on board. Neither was I once I heard what she wanted to know.

“What do you know about your neighbor, Ben Wilkins, from 3C?”

I tried my best to hide it, but her question sent a chill down my spine. “Um, what about him?”

“How well do you know him?”

I stared at her for a second, trying to read her body language. Did she already know about me and Ben? Maybe she did and she was trying to see if she could catch me in a lie. Or maybe she didn’t know anything at all. I couldn’t tell from her poker face what she did or didn’t know, so I tried to be as vague as possible in my answer.