Devil's Corner (27 page)

"Yes."

"But why would they shoot the guy's girlfriend? 'Cause she was pregnant, to hurt him?" Reheema frowned, puzzled. "That man, Browning, he got enough kids already."

The fish-scale coke.
Vicki made a judgment call and filled Reheema in, then concluded, "So the rival gang, if that's what they are, struck at Browning to steal his coke stash. They only killed Jackson because she was there, in the way."

"So it wasn't personal. Okay, I'm with you. Lotta business at stake." Reheema thought a minute. "Still doesn't say why your snitch set me up."

"No, it doesn't. That's an open question." Vicki made a mental note. "It must be a turf war."

"And we walked into the middle."

"Wonder if it's over Cater Street."

"There's a thousand Cater Streets in this city." Vicki nodded. "At least we know it's directed at Browning."

"Oh, it's
directed
, all right." Reheema laughed, but it was hollow. "The problem is that now we don't have anybody to follow back up the chain."

"Unless the white van supplies from the same place."

"Right."

"How likely is that?" Reheema's eyes glittered under her cap. "Likely. It's the little guys that fight it out, block by block, brick by brick. The supplier doesn't care who moves his product."

"So we gotta find the white van."

"Us and
Action News
. And, oh yeah, the cops. A white work van with an American flag? No license plate? No sweat."

"Hold on, I have an idea," Vicki said, her thoughts racing ahead. "Let's go."

Vicki sat in front of her desktop computer at home, wolfing down a Big Mac while Reheema ate a McDonald's shaker of salad over her shoulder, watching the screen.

"Okay, they're loaded," Vicki said, snapping in the photo card and clicking to slide show, and they both sat back and watched. The pictures, downloaded from her digital camera, started last night in the dark and played out like a short film with a miserably unhappy ending. A shot appeared of Browning and his driver digging the car out, almost pitch black, then bright shots of Browning's wife and son coming out of the house, getting in the car, and the photos continued all the way to the Toys "R" Us, with Reheema going in and out, then finally appearing with Browning, slipping on her cap and smiling at him.

Vicki clicked and pointed. "There, in the right corner. The front bumper of the white van."

"Got it."

"I thought it was waiting for a space. What an idiot."

"Keep going."

Vicki double-clicked and the slide show restarted, each picture dissolving into the next, in that corny way the software dictated, horribly inappropriate in context. The scene changed to a laughing Browning and Reheema, in close-up, cutting out the white van, and then the last shot caught the salesclerk going down, before Vicki had dropped the camera in horror.

"Sweet Jesus," Reheema said, and Vicki put down her sandwich, her stomach upset.

"Somebody has to stop these guys. This is just lawlessness. They're turning the city into the wild, wild West. No order, no justice. Only money and murder." It gave Vicki a second wind. She clicked though the slide show, searching. She had taken so many pictures, one had to have the driver of the white van. The van had been pointing out of the lot, ready to make a quick getaway, and the driver's side had been facing Vicki, full on. She'd been only half a lot away. She had to have him on film. She moved the mouse to the right corner of the photo, then clicked. The front end of the white van peeked onto the corner of the frame.

"Yes!" they both said.

"Gotcha, you animal." Vicki eyed a perfect shot of the driver's window, but it was small and dark.

"Can you make it bigger?"

"Watch and be amazed." Vicki moved the mouse to the toolbar and clicked away. Ten clicks later, her large Gateway monitor had a pixelated photo of the driver, dim but visible.

"All right, girl!"

"Thank you, thank you." Vicki scrutinized her handiwork. The photo was dim and too grainy to be perfect, but the features of the driver were clearly visible, and he was young and white.

"Ha!" Reheema snorted. "Ice, ice, baby."

"How does a white boy take over the trade on Cater, street level?"

"He doesn't show his face, that's how. He's the man who talks to the man. He has his boys do his dirty work." Reheema set down her salad.

The driver looked about twenty-five, his face young and unlined, with large, light eyes, maybe blue or hazel. His hair was shaved into a fade of a light hair, its color impossible to ascertain in this light. Next to him in the seat sat a shadow. Vicki couldn't make out the features of his accomplice.

"Now what do we do?"

"First thing, we get the photo to the cops. Philly, ATF, FBI, the whole alphabet."

"Show our hand?"

"No, not if we don't have to. I still need my job. And I have another lead I want to follow up." Vicki paused. "If I e-mail this, they'll know where it came from."

"Then what?"

"We do it the old-fashioned way." Vicki checked her watch. Three o'clock. Then she remembered. "They're having a meeting today at five with all the brass, about Morty's investigation."

"Goody."

"Just so they get
started
," Vicki said, and they both smiled. She hit Print. "Maybe this actual photo of the
murderer
will help?"

"Least we can do." Reheema laughed. "So what's the old-fashioned way? Drop it off and run like hell?"

"Bingo." But Vicki was thinking about that meeting, and what would happen when Dan came home.

THIRTY-TWO

It was cold and dark by the time Vicki and Reheema had finished their mail run, delivering enlargements of the white van driver to receptionists at the U.S. Attorney's Office, the FBI, ATF, Philly Homicide, and the four major news stations. They completed the task in disguise, having Reheema drop off where Vicki would be recognized and vice versa. Vicki had considered taking the next step in the Former Master Plan, but she was exhausted and wanted to find out from Dan how the big meeting had gone. And the shooting had taken a toll on Reheema, who seemed exhausted and had reverted to being remote. After a side trip for some groceries for each of them, they pulled up in front of Vicki's house.

"You sure you don't want to come in?" Vicki asked. "I'm feeling very domestic. I could make you a quick dinner."

"How would you explain me to your boyfriend?"

"Oh, right. I forgot." Vicki wasn't used to coming home to anything but bills.

"I'm wiped out, anyway. I'm gonna go home and make myself a nice chef salad."

"Didn't you have that for lunch?"

"If it comes in a glass, it ain't a salad."

Vicki had noticed Reheema shopping with a sharp eye on prices at the Acme. "Can I ask what you're doing for money?"

"Using the same green as you."

"You can't have much, after being in the FDC so long." Vicki was choosing her words carefully, especially because she was responsible for putting Reheema there. "And you have to pay bills, get the utilities on. You need infrastructure, right?"

"I'm okay for a while. After we're done, I'm gonna get a job."

"Not at Bennye's."

"God, no."

"Can I lend you some money?"

"No, I'm fine." Reheema stiffened, and Vicki regretted it instantly.

"Okay, just let me know. See you tomorrow morning, later, like nine, after Dan goes to work?"

"Fine."

"I'll let you know anything I find out."

"Good." Reheema faced front, nodding.

"Bye." Vicki got out of the Sunbird, retrieved her groceries from the backseat, and closed the door with a final slam, feeling oddly as if she had lost something.

A friend.

Or her innocence.

Vicki opened her front door on to a grinning Dan Malloy, standing on her front step in the frigid night, dripping calico cat, the animal's black-and-orange legs draped over his arm. "Well!"

"Zoe, we're home!"

Vicki laughed. "Come in, it's cold. How'd you get her here?"

"Cab. She loved it. She has caviar tastes." Dan stepped inside, then leaned over the cat and kissed Vicki, his mouth an intriguing mix of cold and warm. She kissed him back, then again, and then another time, before they parted.

"Wow." Vicki closed the front door.

"I agree."

"I could get used to this."

"You'll have to, until I get new furniture." Dan looked her over with a smile. "You know, as good as you look right now, you'd look better in bed."

"Thank you." Vicki had showered, which made her feel almost human again in fresh jeans, a pink cashmere sweater, and no sunglasses. "Come into the kitchen and see your surprise."

"I'm getting a surprise?"

"Of course."
Only because I'm so smooth
.

"Look around, Zoe." Dan set down his briefcase and cat, and followed Vicki into the dining room. "Does the surprise involve you naked?"

"No."

"In a nurse's outfit?'

"No."

"A nun's habit?"

"That's so wrong, Malloy." Vicki reached the kitchen, and in the middle of the floor sat a pink plastic litter box, filled with gourmet litter and its own little scoop, resting casually against the side of the tray. "Romantic, huh?"

"Terrific! Thank you!" Dan grinned, pulling her to him and holding her close, and she could feel the cold air clinging to the scratchy wool of his topcoat. "I didn't know they sold litter boxes at Neiman Marcus."

Oops
. "Uh, no, they don't. I didn't get the litter box there. I got it from the Acme, where I got groceries for dinner."

"Oh, nice." Dan released her to slide out of his topcoat and put it on the back of the kitchen chair. "What am I making?"

"Hey, I'm making it. We're having filet mignon, with onions and baked potatoes. It'll be ready in a minute. I'm Martha

Stewart, preincarceration."

"Funny, I don't smell anything."

D'oh! Vicki crossed to the oven and turned it on. "Okay, so we won't be eating in a minute."

Dan smiled. "Doesn't matter. What'd you get at Neiman Marcus?"

Eek
. "Nothing. So what happened at the big meeting? Did you go?"

"Yes." Dan's expression changed, suddenly troubled. "Did you see the news, Vick? The shooting at Toys ‘R' Us? Seven people killed, three of them kids, and they say a fourth might not make it. It's disgusting."

"Horrible."

"They should hang that guy. And one was Jamal Browning, shot dead."

No, really
? "I heard that on TV. Jackson's boyfriend. Incredible."

"Don't worry, they're gonna get the guy. They already ID'ed him."

"How?"

"You're not gonna believe this. At the end of the business day, somebody sent us a photo of the shooter." Dan reached excitedly inside his jacket pocket and pulled out the photo she'd taken. "Look."

Vicki looked at the photo as if she'd never seen it before, which wasn't easy. "Somebody sent this to us?"
And was she wearing Exxon sunglasses or Chanel?

"Dropped it off at the office. FBI, ATF, everybody got a copy, like manna from heaven. The FBI thinks somebody from the neighborhood took it and they're too afraid of retaliation to come forward."

The FBI are geniuses
. "Probably."

"I'd be afraid, too. What kind of man guns down kids in a Toys ‘R' Us? They coulda hit Browning anywhere, if that's who they were after. It's true scum who does something like that."

Vicki nodded.

"Anyway, it's damn lucky they took the photo, though. The cops had no flash on the shooter. The Toys ‘R' Us surveillance cameras were pointing at the wrong side of the truck, and the eyewitnesses were so freaked out, their descriptions were all over the place. Philly police couldn't even get a composite they had faith in. Then this came in."

Damn, I'm good
. "So who is he and what are they doing about it?"

"His name's Bill Toner. He has a record of bush-league crack dealing and ag assault, in Kensington. Philly put an APB out on him, with his last known address." Dan eyed the photo. "Dude's ugly as sin. A cold, cold killer."

"So Toner killed Browning?" Vicki fake-mulled it over. "Do they know why?"

"Not yet." Dan shook his head. "Or at least they're not saying so in an open meeting, with Strauss there."

"Strauss was there? Was Bale?"

"Yep."

"The triumvirate." Vicki would have felt left out if she hadn't been doing something more important.
Like their jobs
.

"I missed you today." Dan smiled, set the photo on the table, and reached for her, drawing her close. He didn't feel so cold anymore, his chest warm and strong, and Vicki pressed herself against him, his loosened tie silky on her cheek. She felt guilty deceiving him, but if he knew what she'd been doing, he'd try to stop her. She accepted his embrace, and the real, solid comfort it afforded, after the awful afternoon.

"It looked horrible, on TV. These poor people, getting shot."

"I know, I saw it, too. These are real bad guys. Dangerous guys." Dan's voice softened, and Vicki felt the reverberation within his chest as he spoke. "Problem is, you shoulda seen this meeting. The Toys ‘R' Us shooting threw a major wrench into the works. The mayor's on the phone, the city's in an uproar. Then the chamber of commerce starts screaming. Everybody's running around like a chicken and you could see it happen. It was like a tide shifting. I watched Morty go to the back burner."

"Why?" Vicki asked, stricken. "Browning's murder is related to Morty's. These things are of a piece, they have to be."

"Doesn't matter now." Dan frowned in disappointment, too. "Now it's about innocent people being killed while they shop, you can see that. Strauss has to shift priorities to the safety of shopping in the city, to babies and kids getting shot up on the evening news. You can't blame the man."

"But the CI was Browning's girlfriend and she got killed when his coke was stolen. Maybe somebody from the Toner crew, if not Toner himself, is trying to take over Browning's operation."