Chapter Twenty-Four

“This is insane,” Stevenson said.

Raven told him to shut up without even bothering to turn in his direction. The son-of-a-biscuit-eater had finished with the questioning of Clyde’s parents, and tracked her down at Chastain’s. He was like gum on a shoe that she couldn’t shake off.

Regardless, she stood looking at the elderly people in Chastain’s old folks’ corner thinking that maybe Stevenson was right. She could hear Billy Ray banging pots around in the kitchen even over the music. Billy Ray didn’t like what she was about to ask them, but without any other prospects for help they really had no choice.

She stared at each one of the old folks in turn. The people at the mahogany live-edge table looked right back at her, some of them bemused, others wary. She knew that the reasons they hung around Chastain’s were not because of the food – okay, maybe it was the food. But the primary reason was that the restaurant, with its loud music, constant laughter and raucous voices, was an escape. They had trouble in their lives just like everyone else, and maybe because they had been around longer than most, more of it.

But during the months Raven waited tables, they seldom talked about their troubles, and if they were careless to let any of it slip, it was always wrapped in laughter. Mama Anna had just turned eighty. Her family had a little money but she had outlived it, hence the rooming house, or according to what people say today, she had the place converted into a long-stay boutique hotel. Byrd’s Landing gossip had it that Mama Anna used to be a hellraiser. She had run away from home at sixteen dressed as a boy, ran all the way to New Mexico, where she danced with the devil for a good long time before returning to Byrd’s Landing.

Mama Anna’s friend, Miss Vera, who usually sat opposite her, was a proper churchgoing lady who never entered Chastain’s without her wig on, or as she would proudly say, her stockings rolled down. But Raven knew her husband had cleaned out their bank account and ran off with a church secretary almost forty years his junior. If Miss Vera, not a fool by any means, hadn’t had a secret stash set by, she would have been up what Floyd would have called soupy poop creek without a paddle.

Mr. Joe was a Korean War vet and proud of it. His younger friend, Mr. Walter, was a Vietnam vet, and absolutely not. And then there was Mr. Bello, a college-educated computer operator for Standard Oil when they had stakes in town. The others teased him for being a draft dodger because he managed to avoid both wars.

“Now, you want us to do what, Chile?” Mama Anna said, looking at Raven as if she had left her brains on the porch of the restaurant.

“Help find Noe,” Raven answered.

“How we gone to do that?” Mr. Walter said. “Joe could barely find himself last night. Joe!” he yelled to his friend. “Where you at?”

The whole table exploded in laughter, and Mr. Walter was so tickled with his joke that he pounded the floor with his cane. Stevenson gave Raven an I-told-you-so look.

“You can help us look through some videos,” Raven said, unsmiling.

“Ain’t gone do you no good,” Mr. Walter said. “Vera blind. Anna’s mean and impatient. The draft dodger, well, you know….”

“Walter,” Mama Anna said, and Raven was grateful for the serious tone, the first time she had actually seen her so serious. “Shut your mouth before your brains fall out.”

Her tablemates must have caught the tone, because the laughter stopped and nobody spoke. Raven nodded to Cameron, whom she had called to the restaurant, using her no-nonsense cop and sister voice, the one that could usually get him moving no matter how much she had pissed him off. He placed a box on the table and began pulling out Dell laptops.

She and Stevenson had argued earlier on a three-way call with the chief about having Cameron involved in any way in the investigation. Raven was able to fast-talk both of them into it even though Cameron had been officially suspended pending the outcome of the case. Cameron’s accounts had already been locked, she told them, and his access to any BLPD computer systems revoked. Besides, this way, they could both keep an eye on him and keep him busy. “Or keep him one step ahead of us,” Stevenson had said.

But Raven responded that Billy Ray would be at the restaurant the entire time keeping an eye on Cameron. She further told them that Billy Ray shared their suspicion. If he did have anything to do with this, Cameron would get away with nothing.

Raven had her two assigned uniforms call bus stations, residences around Clyde’s and Noe’s homes, theaters, fast-food places they frequented, and anywhere the boys may have been during the past weekend. They had orders to sweet-talk those they called out of any video evidence they might have had. They came back with hundreds of hours of video that needed to be examined. Cameron’s coworker in IT centralized the videos on a secure server, and provided log-ons and passwords for the people around the table now staring at her suspiciously.

Mr. Bello, the former computer operator, looked at the closed computers and back up at her. “You know these old people won’t be able to work a laptop.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Raven said. “But if they need help, you can help them. I’m going to leave Cameron here so he can help troubleshoot any laptop problems, too.” Raven put an arm around her foster brother’s shoulder and gave him a tight squeeze. He stiffened. Stevenson muttered under his breath. She gave each one of the old folks yellow legal pads and two sharp pencils.

“We have no idea where Noe and Clyde went after school on Friday,” Raven said. “Clyde didn’t have a cell phone because he was on punishment. And unfortunately, the last ping on Noe’s phone was Friday late in the school day. We checked their social media accounts, but couldn’t find anything there, either. We’re counting on you.”

“Why the movie star here?” Miss Vera asked, glaring at Stevenson. She never liked him, told Raven there was something funny about him.

“I’ve been telling you for months that I’m not a movie star, Miss Vera,” Stevenson said.

“Location scout,” Mr. Joe said. “Boy a location scout for them movies up in Hollywood.”

“He’s not a location scout,” Raven corrected.

“What?” Mr. Walter said. “You lose your job? Maybe Billy Ray can give you something that can tide you over.”

“Never mind all that now,” Raven said. “There are a lot of videos we’re going to have you review. Some from the school and some from people’s houses, and some from restaurants and such. I’m also going to have you review the videos from the city buses. And when you see Clyde or Noe, I want you to write it down, and tell Billy Ray.”

“Write what down, exactly?” Mr. Joe said.

“The date and time stamp on the video if it has one, the place it came from, and what makes you think it’s Noe and Cameron.”

“What were they wearing in case we can’t see their faces?” Miss Vera asked.

“What they usually wear,” Raven said. “Noe had on a pair of khakis and a blue hoodie with Howard University across it. Clyde had on a LSU sweatshirt. He was wearing khakis, too. Both of them had on navy blue Chucks.”

“This don’t sound like a lot of fun,” Mr. Joe said.

“Sometimes fun ain’t possible,” Mama Anna said. “Especially when the work is necessary.”

“I’m sure you know how to make it fun,” Raven said.

“Got that right,” Mr. Joe answered.

“How do we get to the videos?” Mr. Bello asked.

As she left them, she heard Cameron telling them how to log on. His voice faded as she walked toward the front door with Stevenson behind her.

“You’ve got our prime suspect looking for evidence,” he told her as they exited the restaurant.

“My brother has nothing to do with this,” Raven said. “And he’s not looking for evidence. He’s just helping them get logged on, and showing them how to get to the videos. As soon as he gets everyone going, and it looks like Mr. Bello can handle any problems they might have, Billy Ray is going to put him to work in the restaurant. He’ll keep Cameron out of the way.”

“You don’t know that for sure. What if Billy Ray gets too busy?” he said, frowning. “This isn’t how things get done.”

“Maybe in your town, Detective, it’s not how things get done. But in my town? We take help where we can get it. If we didn’t, your sorry butt wouldn’t be here now, would it?”