Patricia Cornwell – Hammer02 Southern Cross

‘Looking,’ Weed said. ‘Nothing wrong with looking,’ he added, hoping it was true.

‘Looking at what?’

‘The paint job. I heard about it,’ Weed said. ‘So I came to look.’

‘Who were you talking to?’

‘I wasn’t talking.’

‘I heard you,’ Brazil said.

Weed had to revise. It took him a minute.

‘I was praying to Jesus,’ he said.

‘About what?’

Brazil was trying to be mean, but Weed didn’t think he really was.

‘About all these dead people,’ Weed said.

‘How did you get here. You walk?’

Weed nodded.

‘Nobody gave you a ride? You’re by yourself?’

Weed shook his head.

‘No to which?’

‘Being here by myself,’ Weed answered.

‘Meaning you are here by yourself or you’re not?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah?’ Brazil had to get it straight. ‘You’re here by yourself?’

Weed nodded.

‘And you got in by climbing over the fence.’

‘Huh?’

‘I saw you. You grabbed the Victory Rug Cleaning sign and climbed over.’

‘Why you think they advertise on a cement-tary fence? Who they think gonna get their rugs done? Dead people?’ Weed tried to divert the conversation.

‘Why did you climb over the fence?’ Brazil asked him.

‘It was quicker.’ Weed was trying to act cool but his heart was attacking him.

‘Why aren’t you in school?’

‘It’s a holiday.’

‘Oh really?’ Brazil asked. ‘Which one?’

‘Can’t remember.’

‘I’m pretty sure today isn’t a holiday,’ Brazil said.

‘Then how come there’s no school?’ Weed said.

Brazil didn’t find Weed threatening in the least, but Brazil looked him over to make sure he wasn’t carrying anything Brazil ought to know about.

‘Then what are you doing way over here?’ Brazil asked.

Brazil stepped closer to the statue to get a better look at Magic Jeff. He couldn’t help but smile.

‘I think it was one of those teacher work days,’ Weed offered lamely. ‘All I know is it was something, you know, something they was doing and we didn’t have to go. And my mama had to go to work. So I’m just hanging, you know?’

‘It would only take me a minute to find out whether you’re telling me the truth,’ said Brazil, who was distracted and upset that West had left him and hadn’t shown up yet. ‘What I ought to do is haul your tiny butt back to Godwin and let them deal with you. But guess what? All they’d do is suspend you and that would only keep you out of school longer, right? So that’d just give you what you want, right?’

‘I don’t want to be out of school!’ Weed fired back. ‘I’d be there now if…’

‘I thought you said it was a holiday,’ Brazil said.

Weed was horrified that he’d just tripped over his lie and landed flat on his ass. There was no going back. His eyes danced around, looking for some place to run.

‘All right, Weed,’ Brazil said. ‘Let’s get down to business.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘It’s time for the truth,’ Brazil said as Pigeon suddenly appeared, heading toward them, his gait listing and awkward.

‘For one thing, your last name isn’t Jones, now is it?” said Brazil, who could not see Pigeon at his back.

‘No,’ Weed said.

‘It’s Gardener, and your brother was Twister.’

Weed was speechless.

‘Weed, tell me what the five’s for?’

‘Huh?’

‘The five tattooed on your finger. Let’s try that story again and see if it comes out better this time.’

Fear turned to panic. Weed’s mind went blank.

‘I told you before it don’t mean nothing,’ Weed said.

‘I know it does,’ Brazil persisted. ‘The Pikes. The gang taking credit for painting the statue, right?’

Weed was beginning to shake, Pigeon right behind them. Brazil probably smelled him and suddenly spun around, hand on his gun.

‘Don’t go shooting me, I ain’t worth it,’ Pigeon said calmly as he eyed the statue. ‘Now that’s special.’

‘Who are you?’ Brazil asked Pigeon, relaxing his shooting hand a little.

‘Pigeon. I’ve seen you before,’ Pigeon said. ‘Usually with some hot-looking lady cop. Can’t be on the street as much as I am and not see everybody eventually.’

Pigeon studied the statue again. Weed wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw admiration shining in Pigeon’s eyes. For an instant, Weed felt joy.