George Pelecanos - The Night Gardener

'No.'

'No, what ?'

'He didn't have no gun at that time. When we left out the Twilight, he drove to see this man. The man he met sold him a gun.'

'That night?'

'Yes.'

'Shit,' said Ramone, in the darkness of the monitor room.

'Looks like Dominique wasn't your shooter,' said Antonelli.

Ramone said nothing and rubbed at his face. The door opened, and Detective Eugene Hornsby, rumpled and in ill-matched clothes, stood in the frame.

'Garloo's pulling into the parking lot, Gus,' said Hornsby. 'He says he needs to speak with you right now. He's got something to show you. For some reason he wants you to come outside.'

'Mother fucker ,' said Ramone, getting quickly out of his seat, extreme agitation on his face.

'Shoot the piano player,' said Hornsby. 'Not me.'

Bill Wilkins was seated in the Impala, the driver's side door open, one foot out of the car and on the asphalt. He was having a cigarette and blowing the smoke away from Ramone. Ramone was in the passenger bucket, looking through the papers that Wilkins had brought in a manila jacket.

'You got this, what,' said Ramone, 'out of the History files of his computer?'

'It's basically the sites Asa was visiting the week before his death. He had an automatic delete programmed for every seven days.'

'This is…'

'Those are just examples of the home pages,' said Wilkins. 'You get deep into the contents, it's really raw. Take my word for it, it's explicit. Men-on-men stuff, basically. Dick shots, anal penetration. Cocksucking. Jerking off is a big number, too.'

'Asa was gay.'

'That's a bet.'

Ramone stroked his black mustache. 'I guess I've suspected it since the ME's report. I don't know why I didn't look at it dead on. I suppose I didn't want it to be true.'

Wilkins pitched his cigarette out into the street. 'I don't mean to be flip about it. I was real sorry when I saw this come up. You knowin the kid and all.'

'You did well.'

'I wish I had uncovered more. I mean, there's no correspondence in there. He was careful about his e-mails or he didn't use the format to communicate. Men pick up boys in those chat rooms, that's how they connect. I've done it myself.' Wilkins caught Ramone's look. 'With women, Gus. Married women, mostly, you want the truth. They're the easiest to, you know, meet. The wonder of the Internet.'

'Did you talk to Terrance Johnson?'

'Hell, no. Not about this. He was intoxicated, anyway. Askin me about the investigation, did we find the murder weapon yet, all that. I was backpedaling out of there with this file tight under my arm. I printed out those pages and booked.'

'Drunk at nine in the morning.'

'Can't say I blame him,' said Wilkins.

'You know, he asked me if we'd found the gun, too.'

'You don't think-'

'No,' said Ramone. 'What's the motive? Terrance Johnson can be a class-A jerk. But there's no way he killed his son.' Ramone looked blankly through the windshield. 'This explains the Civil War stuff, all that.'

'Huh?'

'All those sites Asa visited, about the local forts and cemeteries.'

'Right. Prime locations for fag hookups.'

'I imagine two people would arrange the meet through the Internet. A teenage boy doesn't have his own place to go, and a lot of the older guys, I would think they don't want some kid being seen entering their house. Hell, a lot of these chicken-hawks are probably married.'

'Fort Stevens would be a good one. Thirteenth and Quackenbos? It's not far from the Johnson house. All those embankments and, what do you call 'em, parapets you can hide in.'

'They don't have a Lincoln-Kennedy monument up there, do they, Bill?'

'Never heard of it. I mean, President Lincoln was fired on during that famous battle they had there. The only time he was on a live battlefield during the Civil War. But there's no memorial there for that, none that I can recall. Maybe in that national cemetery they got, up the road.'

'On Georgia Avenue?'

'The one that Venable Place backs up into. It's just a tiny graveyard. That's where they buried the soldiers who fell in that battle.'

'Bill, you're-'

'I know. You guys think I'm all about pussy and PBR. I like to read, is what it is. I'm telling you, I read my ass off when I'm at home.'

Ramone gathered his thoughts. 'You know what's bothering me, don't you?'

'What?'

'All right, Asa was gay. But what's that got to do with his murder?'

'You don't think we're any closer?'

'I do, but I'm not seeing it.'

'What about Rhonda's suspect?'

'That's the thing,' said Ramone. 'Dominique Lyons's girlfriend is in the process of fingering him for the Jamal White killing. But she says he didn't purchase the gun until the night he did Jamal. Asa got dropped the night before.'

'So we find the dude who sold Lyons the gun.'

'Rhonda's working on it as we speak.'

'Sarge?'

'Huh.'

'You said I was doing a good job on this.'

'You are.'

'I been putting in a ton of overtime on it.'

'Okay.'

'Will you sign my Eleven-thirty when we get inside?'

'Kiss my ass,' said Ramone.

He looked at his watch. It was past noon.

Ramone and Wilkins entered the video monitor room. Bo Green and Antonelli were seated, watching Rhonda Willis and Darcia on screen 2. On screen 1, Dominique Lyons was alone in the box, his head on the table, his eyes closed.

'What's going on?' said Ramone.

'Bo gave up on the shitbird,' said Antonelli. 'Rhonda got it all out of the girl, anyway.'

'What about the gun?'

'Dominique took the cylinder out of the revolver and tossed it over the rail of the Douglass Bridge. Then he doubled back and threw the rest of it over the rail of the Sousa. It's in pieces in the Anacostia River, forever. But the girl gave us a name and location on the seller. Guy by the name of Beano. Eugene's running it now.'

'Look at Dominque,' said Green with disgust.

'Fucknuts is takin a nap,' said Antonelli.

'You know what the captain says,' said Wilkins. 'If they can sleep in the box, they're guilty. 'Cause otherwise they'd be screaming their asses off about how we made a big mistake.'

'Let him sleep,' said Green. 'Young man believes he's gonna walk out of here free. But he ain't goin no goddamn where but the joint. I'm gonna stick around just to see the look on his face when we tell him about his future.'

'What about the girl?' said Wilkins. 'They gonna charge her?'

'We need to talk to the prosecutor,' said Green. 'But I imagine, what with all the cooperating she did, and her testimony, she's gonna pull probation. Rhonda promised her Wit-Sec. It's a start.'

'Like that little ho is gonna turn her sweet ass around,' said Antonelli, 'just in time for Mother's Day.'

'Don't you ever shut up?' said Ramone.

As Rhonda recorded the time for the camera, Ramone and Wilkins left the room. When they were gone, Antonelli looked over at Bo Green.

'What the fuck did I do?'

'I guess he just don't like assholes,' said Green. 'Damn if I know why.'

Ramone and Wilkins met Rhonda Willis at her cubicle. She and Ramone exchanged a look, and then he lightly touched her arm.

'Nice work.'

'Thanks.'

'You've put in a full day.'

'Uh-huh. And you?'

'It's been interesting, so far. My son got bounced from his school. I went there and peed on the principal's desk, and then I questioned the assistant principal's manhood.'

'You're quite the diplomat.'

'Also, Bill here found some things on Asa Johnson's computer that pretty much prove Asa was gay.'

'You must have had a feeling.'

'I did.'

'But what's it got to do with his murder?'

'I don't know if it has anything to do with it. I'm hoping the two of us can find the dude who sold Lyons the gun and figure this shit out.'