The Night Gardener

'I seen that TV show,' said Lyons.

'What's that?'

'You know the one. Where that white dude gets the suspects in the interview room and talks them out of their right to an attorney, like, every week for ten years straight? And then pushes that yellow pad across the table and tells the suspect to write out his confession? And then the suspect does it? Yeah, I seen it. Trouble is, ain't no motherfucker I know ever been stupid enough to do that. Maybe in New York they ignorant like that. But not in D.C.'

'You are smart, Dominique.'

'Said I was.'

'Like Doogie Howser.'

'If you say so.'

'We're talkin to your girlfriend Darcia.'

'That right?'

'She as smart as you?'

Bo Green got out of his seat. He looked down at Lyons, who was examining the table in front of him. His hands, steady throughout the interview, were rhythmically tapping the table's scarred surface.

'I'm go

'Let me get a Slice.'

'We don't have that. How about Mountain Dew?'

Lyons nodded shortly. Green glanced at his watch, then looked directly into the camera mounted in a corner of the ceiling.

'Eleven twenty a.m.,' said Green before he left the box.

Bo Green waited for the door to shut behind him with its audible lock. He walked into the adjacent video monitor room, where Detectives Ramone and Antonelli sat, Antonelli with the Sports section open in his lap. On one screen was Dominique Lyons, still staring at the table, shifting his bottom, trying to find a comfortable spot on the seat. On the other were Rhonda Willis and Darcia Johnson, seated in box number 2. Ramone was focused on that screen. Rhonda's soft, steady voice came from the speakers.

'Anything?' said Green.

'Rhonda's taking it slow,' said Ramone.

'Trick-ass bitch ain't said nary a word yet,' said Antonelli.

'I love it when you talk like that, Tony,' said Green. 'It's so street authentic.'

'That is some nice booty, though,' said Antonelli.

'There's an expression you don't hear much these days,' said Green. 'Been a few decades, come to think of it.'

'Your boy Dominique,' said Ramone. 'He's real cooperative.'

'That's my buddy,' said Green. 'After this is over we go

'I don't mean to be negative,' said Ramone, 'but I have the feeling Dominique's not going to confess.'

'He's seen that TV show,' said Green. 'Anyway, let me get on out of here and find him a Mountain Dew.'

Green exited the room as Ramone continued to watch the screen. Rhonda Willis was leaning across the table, a lit match in her hand, bringing fire to Darcia Johnson's cigarette.

'Says here Lee-Var Arrington's not one hundred percent,' said Antonelli, his eyes on the newspaper. 'He's doubtful for this Sunday's game. Ten million a year, or whatever it is, and he doesn't have to go to work 'cause his fuckin knee hurts. Me, I got hemorrhoids like grapes, hanging between my ass crack, and I show up every day. Am I missing something or what?'

'It's possible,' said Ramone.

In box number 2, Rhonda Willis blew out the match.

Darcia dragged on her cigarette and tapped ash into a foil tray. She was freckled, with hazel eyes. Her body was full and ripe. Having a baby had not ruined her figure. In fact, it had made her more voluptuous, an asset in her job.

'Tell me about Jamal White,' said Rhonda.

Darcia Johnson looked away.

'It's okay to talk about Jamal,' said Rhonda, repeating the boy's name deliberately. 'I know about your relationship. Jamal's friend Leon Mayo? He told us you two had a thing.'

'Wasn't no thing,' said Darcia. 'I'm with Dominique.'

'Jamal was sweet on you, though.'

'He could have been. I ain't know him that well, really.'

'No? The man who works the door down at the Twilight is a police officer. He says you two were talking at the bar the night of Jamal's murder.'

'I talk to a lot of men down there. I get paid to. That's how I get tips.'

'And by dancing.'

'Sure.'

'What else?'

Darcia didn't answer.

'I been to that place you stay with Shaylene Vaughn,' said Rhonda, her tone free of aggression or animosity. 'I got eyes.'

'So?'

'Do you give Dominique all the money you earn?'

Darcia dragged on her cigarette.

'Is Dominique Lyons your pimp?'

Darcia exhaled a stream of smoke into the small room.

'I'm not judging you, girl,' said Rhonda. 'I'm just tryin to find out what happened to that young man. I met his grandmother and I saw her tears. His people deserve to know, don't you think?'

'Jamal was just a boy I knew.'

'If you say.'

'I'm sorry that he got killed. But I don't know nothin about it.'

'Okay.'

'Can I see my baby now?'

'He's with your mother in the playroom we got. Your father's there too, I expect.'

'Isaiah's not sick, is he?'

'He's fine.'

'My mother lied to get me arrested, then.'

'She lied to help you, Darcia. She did right for you and your son.'

'How's it go

Darcia hit her smoke and stabbed it dead in the ashtray. She rubbed at her eyes.

'About Jamal.'

Darcia made a small wave of her hand.

'Take your time,' said Rhonda.

'We done, far as I'm concerned.'

'Not yet. I'd like to get up out of here my own self, but we still got some things we need to discuss. Unfortunately, I caught this homicide…'

'You can't hold me on no marijuana charge.'

'Go

'This some bullshit. You know it is.'

Rhonda let Darcia have her anger and watched as it passed.

'You all right? You ain't sick or nothin like that, are you? You comin down off a high?'

Darcia shook her head.

'That's good,' said Rhonda. 'Listen, you want a soda, somethin?'

'I'll take a Diet Coke, you got it.'

'Go

Darcia nodded. Rhonda stood, looked at her watch, then looked into the camera lens and said, 'Eleven thirty-five a.m.'

Rhonda walked from the room, waited for the door to lock behind her, and got a Diet Pepsi from the vending machine. She carried it to the video room, where Ramone and Antonelli sat watching Bo Green and Dominique Lyons on screen number 1.

'Where my whip at?' said Lyons.

'Prob'ly on the way to the impound lot,' said Green.

'Better not be one scratch on it,' said Lyons, 'or y'all go

'That is a nice Lexus,' said Green. 'What is that, the four hundred?'

'Four thirty,' said Lyons.

'Were you driving that the other night?'

'What night you talkin about?'

'The night Jamal White was murdered,' said Green.

'Who?'

'Jamal White.'

'I ain't familiar with that name.'

'You had a confrontation with him at the Twilight the night of his death. We have a witness.'

'Lawyer,' said Dominique Lyons.

Green folded his hands across his huge torso, sat back in his chair, and stared straight ahead.

'Bo looks kinda sad, doesn't he?' said Antonelli.

'That's frustration,' said Ramone.

'You see a young man who's keeping his mouth shut,' said Rhonda. 'I see one who's talkin his ass off.'

'For real?'

'Let me get back in there and do my thing.'

'You need an assistant?' said Antonelli. 'I know how to loosen a young woman's tongue. All it takes is the Plug charm.'

'And plenty of alcohol,' said Ramone.

'I got this,' said Rhonda. She left the room.

Ramone turned down the sound on screen I because there was nothing to listen to of value. They waited for Rhonda to get back in box number 2. She had a seat and pushed the can of soda across the table to Darcia. Rhonda let Darcia pop the tab on the can and take a long pull. She lit Darcia's next cigarette.