The Night Gardener

'Doc Newman is straight,' said Benjamin.

'He's a veterinarian!' said Raynella.

'True,' said Benjamin. 'But he is straight.'

For a high fee, Dr Newman treated gunshot victims in the city who did not want to go to hospitals. He ran a veterinary clinic on Bladensburg Road, heading up toward the Peace Cross in Maryland. He often left scars, due to the stitching he used, but he was a master of irrigation. Few of his patients died of infection or loss of blood, and in general he did good work.

'He's all right,' said Broadus. 'They got him sleeping in the back room.'

When he can sleep, thought Broadus. With all them dogs barking and shit.

'How did this happen?' said Raynella. 'And I don't want to hear from the Michelin Man over there. I'm askin you, Raymond.'

'Someone got some information on the transaction Tommy was gettin ready to make. What we're thinking is, it was someone at the cut house who learned about the deal and then passed it on.'

'You was braggin on yourself when you went to that place, I expect,' said Raynella to Broadus.

'I told him to make sure everyone knew he was alone on this,' said Benjamin. 'That he bankrolled it hisself.'

'What he do, give out his home address?'

'I never did,' said Broadus.

'I don't know how they figured where he stayed at,' said Benjamin. 'But look, we go

'You goddamn right you go

'I know it,' said Benjamin, wiping at his forehead as if it carried sweat, though he was not perspiring and it was cool in the room.

Right about now, Raymond Benjamin was thinking that buying and selling cars at auction was a relatively stress-free way of making a living. Knowing full well, even as he idly considered giving up his other activities, that the income from his legitimate business would never be, for a man like him, enough.

He had to choose his clients more carefully, is what it was. He had met Tommy Broadus when he got him that Cadillac CTS, six months back. And then Broadus, who knew who Benjamin was and his history, had told him that he was looking to take the plunge. Benjamin had had his doubts about Broadus, but he would take a hefty cut, not to mention the vig on his principal, if all went well. Also, he had seen it as an opportunity to indoctrinate his nephew Edward, who had been bothering him about getting into the business, with an older, nonviolent man in a deal that looked to be money.

And then the boy, with that smart mouth of his, had to go and lip off to a man holding a gun. Big sis was conveniently forgetting what he had tried to do for her son. Matter of fact, it was his sister who had been on him to 'take care of his nephew for some time. And now Raynella was getting all siced over the consequences, here in his living room.

'We go

'Man who shot Edward said his name,' said Broadus. 'We do have that.'

'Romeo Brock,' said Benjamin.

'They was two,' said Broadus. 'Another man, short and muscled-up.'

'You get an address or cell number with that name?' said Raynella. 'Do you know anyone who knows this mother-fucker who call himself Romeo?'

'He ain't exactly in the phone book,' said Raymond.

'Then exactly what you go

'That wouldn't work,' said Raymond. 'I got to do business with those people long-term. I will find out who talked, eventually. But I can't afford to sever that relationship at this time.'

'So what then?'

'For now, there's a better way. Tell her, Tommy.'

'This Romeo Brock,' said Broadus, nearly mumbling, not looking Raynella in the eye, 'he took a woman I been seein with him when he left out my place.'

'He snatched your girl out from under you, huh?'

'That pussy had cobwebs on it, anyway,' said Broadus, unable to humble himself even for the purpose of a serious discussion. 'The point I'm making is, the girl got a job and she too proud to quit it. Won't be hard to track her from there to where Brock layin up.'

'Today?' said Raynella.

'She off today,' said Broadus, trying not to picture Chantel with Romeo Brock, celebrating what they took.

'She's go

'We?'

'Me, Mikey, and Nesto,' said Benjamin, patiently nodding to the two young men who stood by the door.

'Well, get on it!' said Raynella with a horrible shriek.

'I plan on it, Ray-nelle,' said Benjamin.

'Quit pla

Benjamin slowly rubbed his fingers up and down his temple. 'You tryin to give me a migraine, girl.'

Romeo Brock parted the curtains of his bedroom window. He saw his cousin Conrad walking home from the shape-up spot he went to every morning, out there on Central Avenue. He was passing through the shade of the big tulip poplar and heading for the front door.

Gaskins had sweat stains on his T-shirt and his khaki Dickies held marks from the grass and shrubs he'd been cutting on all day. The man looked spent. Brock felt sorry for him, almost. He'd been out there in that autumn sun since daybreak, while he, Romeo Brock, had been in the cool of his house, drinking champagne and smoking a little get-high with a woman who was all woman. She was like one of those horses you admired while the trainer walked it around the track.

Brock let the curtain fall and looked over at the bed. Chantel Richards was sleeping on top of it, wearing one of his rayon shirts, unbuttoned to show her bra. She wore a lacy black thong to complement the brassiere. Beside the bed was the open Gucci suitcase, showing cash. Beneath Chantel was some of the cash, tossed there by Brock. They had fucked on it earlier.

He remembered seeing this movie on television when he was younger. Steve McQueen, baddest white man ever walked in front of a camera, played a dude who robbed a bank and then took off with his girlfriend, ru

He looked at her for a moment, sleeping there. Brock, dressed in his boxers and nothing else, lit a Kool and tossed the match into a tire-shaped ashtray. He closed the door softly behind him as he left the room.

Brock went down a hall, the kitchen behind him, passing Gaskins's bedroom and the bathroom, and came out into a large living-and-dining-room area where Gaskins was standing.

'Tough day?' said Brock.

'Yeah,' said Gaskins, looking him over with a mixture of amusement and disgust. 'How 'bout you?'

'Go on, cuz. Tryin' to act like you don't wish you were me.'

'Sure, I'd like it. Lie around in a dark room all day with a fine woman, drinking whatever it is you drinking that's coming off your breath, smoking what I smell in the air. I'd like to try a little herb again someday, when I get off paper. I used to enjoy getting my head up.'