The Night Gardener

In the Town Car, Holiday took his hat off the seat beside him and put it on the floor behind his feet.

The gas-and-convenience store was on the stretch of Route 214 known as Central Avenue, ru

'You goin in?' said Holiday.

'Yeah,' said Ramone, remembering why he'd come. 'Wilson, right?'

'Goes by Reginald, not Reggie,' said Cook.

'This shouldn't take long.'

Ramone slipped out of the backseat. They watched him cross the lot, chest out, shoulders squared, the bulge of his Glock visible inside the jacket of his blue suit.

'Ramone,' said Holiday. 'Motherfucker is ramrod straight, isn't he?'

'Some just look like police,' said Cook. 'I was the same way.'

'Lookin ain't being,' said Holiday.

They sat there for a while, not speaking. Holiday reached into his jacket for his smokes, thought better of it because of the old man's health, and left them alone.

'Man's got to be pumping sixty dollars' worth of gas into that thing,' said Cook, looking at a young guy filling his Yukon Denali. 'When it's three dollars a gallon, you'd think they'd downsize.'

'There's never a gas crisis in America,' said Holiday, 'even when there is one.'

'Gasoline and television. Two things folks in this country will not do without.'

'You know those apartments, Woodland Terrace, down on Langston Lane?'

'Government housing,' said Cook. 'I had quite a few dealings down in there.'

'Some of those people are paying eleven dollars a month for their apartment, subsidized rate. And then they pay eighty dollars a month for cable service and HBO. Talk about sucking on the federal tit.'

'You had that area?'

'Shit, I walked and rode patrol in One, Six, and Seven-D. I'd work any district, anytime. People knew me. They'd see my car number and wave. Drug dealers and their grandmothers, too. Not like our boy Ramone. Pulling desk duty while I was out there on the line.'

Cook removed a pack of sugarless gum from his jacket, slid one out, and offered Holiday a stick. Holiday waved it away.

'What happened between you two?' said Cook.

'I was on the fringe of this thing,' said Holiday. 'I just got caught up in something bigger that was happening at the time.'

'How'd you get caught up?'

'Ramone had an IAD case, an investigation into a group of vice cops who were being paid off by pimps to leave their girls alone. The undercover guys were having trouble making arrests because the prosties were being tipped off.'

'Were they?'

'I had heard that a couple of the vice guys were on the take. Sure.'

'So?'

'IAD was surveilling the stroll where these girls walked. Taking photographs from UC cars and shit. They got me on camera, talking to this white girl, name of Lacy. More than once.'

'What were you doing with her?'

'I talked to her regular, used her for information and just as my ear to the street. Prostitutes see things out there. You know that. Plus, we were friendly, like.'

'I doubt her pimp was happy about that.'

'He would have been furious if he'd known. This guy didn't play. Dude named Mister Morgan, a real cool killer.'

'Was Lacy his bottom?'

'He told her she was. But he'd get violent on her, and sometimes she needed to get away. I'd buy her coffee once in a while, like that.'

'What happened?'

'Somehow, Ramone got Lacy to come in from the cold and testify against the vice guys. She was a heroin addict, and she was tired of it and tired of being in the life. Lacy knew exactly who was and who wasn't dirty in Vice, and she was Ramone's prize. He dangled witness protection in front of her, the whole ride. But, see, he fucked up. They should have grand juried her when they had her in the offices, but they let her go back to her pad to get her things. There was a squad car waiting out front of her place, but she must have gone out the alley or something.'

'They lost her.'

'Yeah. Ramone and his crew found a witness who noticed me talking to Lacy later that day. That was the last time anyone saw her.'

'What did you and Lacy discuss?'

'Wasn't important,' said Holiday. 'Look, I wasn't on the take and I wasn't corrupt. The only thing I can tell you is, with regards to that girl, I did what was right.'

'Ramone was going to bring you up on charges?'

'He was, and I walked. So fuck him.'

'There he is,' said Cook.

Ramone was moving across the lot.

CHAPTER 25

Reginald Wilson's not our man,' said Ramone, seated in the back of the Lincoln. 'Not on this one, anyway.'

'Who'd you talk to?' said Cook.

'The owner-slash-manager. Guy named Mohammed.'

'And he said what?'

'Wilson pulls various shifts. That night he was working the ten p.m. to six a.m. He was working the night Asa was killed.'

'This Ach-med, he actually see Wilson on the job?' said Holiday.

'He did see him, until midnight, when Mohammed went home. But even if he hadn't, there's visual proof. He keeps a security camera ru

'Sonofabitch,' said Cook.

'I can find his parole officer,' said Ramone, 'confirm his work schedule, all that. But I don't think it's necessary, do you?'

Cook shook his head.

'What now?' said Holiday.

'I'm go

'I wasn't worried,' said Holiday.

'Least you can rest easy, Sarge,' said Ramone.

Cook said nothing.

'Let's get a beer or somethin,' said Holiday.

'Drop me at my car,' said Ramone.

'C'mon, Ramone. How often do we see each other? Right?'

'I'll have a beer,' said Cook.

Ramone looked over the bench at Cook. He seemed small, leaning against the door in the front seat of the car.

'Okay,' said Ramone. 'One beer.'

Ramone was finishing his third beer as Holiday returned from the bar with three more and some shots of something on a tray. Ramone and Cook were seated at a four-top near a hallway leading to the restrooms, listening to Laura Lee singing 'Separation Line' from the juke. They were in Leo's, which was fine with Ramone, as it was close to his house. Hell, if it came to it, he could walk. But he hoped it wouldn't come to that. He had picked up his Tahoe from the garden on Oglethorpe, and he intended to drive it home.

'What is that?' said Ramone, as Holiday set the shot glasses down on the table crowded with empty bottles.

'It ain't Alizé or Crown or whatever they're moving these days in this place,' said Holiday. 'Good ol' Jackie D, baby.'

'Been a while,' said Cook. 'But what the hell.' He threw his shot back without waiting for a glass-tap or toast.

Ramone had a healthy sip. The sour mash bit real nice. Holiday downed his completely and chased it with beer. He and Cook were drinking Michelob. Ramone was working a Beck's.

'What time is it, Da

Holiday looked at the clock on the wall, within easy sight of all of them. Then he remembered the schoolhouse clock in Cook's house, off by several hours. It came to him that Cook wasn't wearing a watch. The reason being, he couldn't read the time.