“Why was he buggin’, then?”
“I don’t know. He was just agitated and shit.”
Donut listened to dead air. He could almost see Mario, his mouth open, staring into space, walking around the room with the cordless in his hand, the other hand in his pocket, jingling change.
“What else is goin’ on?” said Mario.
“What else? Mario, you wanted for murder.”
“I know it.”
“Look here, Mario, those rocks I gave you? Throw that shit away, man. The vials, too, everything. Your brother don’t want you fuckin’ with no dummies.”
“Yeah, okay. Dewayne didn’t rough you or nothin’, did he?”
“Nah,” said Donut. “That Bigfoot-lookin’ motherfucker of his, though, he broke my game case. Just, like, stepped on it.”
“Madden?”
“NBA Street.”
“That shits was already broke.”
“That ain’t the point.” Donut rubbed his finger along his jawline. “So how’s that girl Dewayne put you in with?”
“She’s at work.”
“How is she, though? Is she fine?”
“Yeah,” said Mario. “I already told you, she got a nice round onion on her, man.”
“I just like thinkin’ about it.”
“Donut?”
“What?”
“Don’t give me up. You know I can’t do no time.”
Donut said, “You’re my boy.”
STRANGE sat behind the wheel of his Caprice in the parking lot of the St. Elizabeth’s McDonalds, the Aiwa minirecorder in his hand barely making a sound as the tape whirred, recording the conversation in the car. Devra Stokes was beside him on the bench. Her son, Juwan, sat in the back, diligently working on a cup of soft chocolate ice cream, humming to himself from time to time. It was hot inside the car; Strange had kept the windows rolled up most of the way in an effort to reduce the ambient noise.
“And he said this where?” said Strange.
“This one time?” said Devra.
“This time you distinctly remember.”
“Me and Phil were in his car, the Turbo Z. The one Granville had bought him? We were out in the lot of Crystal Skate. Back around then, that used to be where the mob liked to hang. I liked to roller-skate then, and so did Phil. Phil was good.”
“Do you have a date on this?”
“Not exactly. It was, like, a few days before Bennett Oliver got murdered in his Jag.”
“Why do you remember that so clearly?”
“’Cause when it happened, I thought of Phil right away.”
“Why?”
“This night at the skating park, Phil had drunk some wine and had a little smoke. We was in his Z that night, just talkin’. Phil said to me that Bennett had been caught on a wiretap. He said that Granville believed his uncle was gonna flip on him to the Feds, one of those plea-outs they do.”
“And?”
“Phil said that Bennett needed to be got.”
“To be murdered, right?”
Devra nodded.
“Answer for the tape, please, Devra.”
“Yes, to be murdered.”
“Did Phil say he was going to do it himself?”
“Yes. Phil said he was the one that would put the work in.”
“Clarify, please.”
“Phillip Wood told me that he was gonna kill Bennett Oliver.”
“Why him? Why not Granville?”
“Phil said it would be good for him to do it. Good for his career, I mean. It would remove another person above him, make him closer to Granville. In Granville’s eyes, it would make him his main boy.”
“Were there other instances where Phil talked about this plan?”
“I guess. But I don’t remember, like, specific. The night at Crystal Skate, it sticks in my mind.”
“And what happened next?”
Devra shrugged. “Bennett got shot.”
“Did Phil Wood say he’d done it?”
“No. After, he never said nothin’ about it again. And I didn’t ask. I just thought, you know, since he’d told me he was gonna do it, that he’d been the one. I figured it was better I didn’t know for sure. I’d seen what happened to some other people, knew too much.”
Strange shut off the recorder. “Thank you, Devra. That’s good. That’s exactly what we need.”
“Will I testify?”
“Yes, I think you will. My wife will have the subpoena today. It’s not that we’re against you; it’s only to make it official.”
“And then what?”
“I talked to Ray Ives. They’re going to get you and Juwan into an apartment, probably over in Northwest. Not the Section Eights. A step or two up.”