Lou frowned, but Lauren shook her shoulders in a mock shiver. “You can be scary, you know?”

“I’m not trying to frighten you, I’m just being careful.”

“I really haven’t been feeling stalked. And you yourself said my car was destroyed by gay bashers. Right now we want a little peace and quiet. I think we deserve that much, don’t you?”

I looked toward Lou for assistance. “I think the worst is over, Matty,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

So much for help. “I don’t see any harm in keeping my eyes open.”

“That’s Teddy’s job and I’m confident he’ll do it,” Lauren said.

“But not confident enough to talk to him about feeling stalked?”

Lauren tossed her thick hair again. “That was something he could say was in my head. It was something you said, remember?”

“I’m not saying it now.”

“Thank you,” she replied sarcastically. Then, as quickly as her sarcasm surfaced, it slipped into weariness. “I can’t deal with another argument today. You mean well and I’m sure you’d make a fine houseguest, but not now. Too much has happened in too short a time. Anyway, the police are protecting us.”

“For how long, Lauren?”

“How long could you stay? I’m sorry Matthew, I appreciate the offer, but the only person I want with me now is your father-in-law.”

“I understand your need for privacy, but how about giving me the names and addresses of people at the party?”

“What for, Matty?” Lou asked.

“Shake some trees, see what falls.”

“That’s outrageous,” Lauren snapped.

“Take it easy,” Lou intervened. “Matt only wants to make sure we’re not in danger.”

“I’m sorry Lou, but I won’t allow him to do anything of the sort. There’s been enough “tree shaking” to last a lifetime. The police are positive the shooting was the work of a gang and there’s no reason to doubt them.”

Lauren glared at me. “I’m not dragging anyone else into this and that’s final. Don’t make me do some rattling of my own, Matthew.”

I knew who she expected to fall. I looked at Lou but he refused to meet my gaze. Whatever his inclination, Lou was marching to Lauren’s drum. Whatever my misgivings, I was headed home. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, Lauren.”

“Please don’t think I’m ungrateful but Lou and I need time together. Time to give everything a chance to return to normal.”

Not what I wanted for myself, but liked having my pants pulled about Alexis even less. “I’ll back off, but I want your word on something.”

“What is that?”

“If your discomfort returns, or any other kind of trouble for that matter, you call. And you call immediately. I’m even keeping the cell phone on and charged, I said staring at Lou.

“I promise.” A wry smile replaced her frown. “This is what’s meant by role reversal.”

But just outside town I postponed the ride back into my life. I was annoyed at letting myself be blackmailed by Lauren’s Alexis threat. Well, fuck her. If Biancho was in charge of Lou and Lauren’s safety, I was going to lock and load about his competence. And I was going to give him everything I had.

The Chief immediately made time. “I expected your call yesterday.” He wore an amused expression but his eyes were cold.

“Yesterday was Sunday and you never gave me your home number.”

“It’s listed.”

If he intended to make me feel foolish, he succeeded. “I had a lot to think about.”

“Now you’re here to tell me about it.”

“What’s eating you?” I asked, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Does it really surprise you I’m concerned about the drive-by?”

Biancho frowned. “No, it doesn’t surprise me. It makes me uncomfortable when people look over my shoulder. Let me tell you what I’ve told Lauren and, uh...”

“Lou. I know what you told them.”

“So what’s the beef?”

“No beef. I have information for you.”

He nodded, so I took it from the top. Explained the real reason for tailing Lauren and told him about the car trashing. Even threw in Ian’s suicide attempt, but the only time I got a response was when I mentioned Alexis’ desire to market the Hacienda. And that only a brief twist of his body.

By the time I finished, Biancho looked disinterested. Worse, I understood why. There were no concrete connects between any of the events.

“Fascinating Jacob, but it doesn’t change a damn thing. We’ve seen these drive-bys in other towns, all with the same M.O. All with the same weapons and ammunition, all in the same early hours. Police departments up here believe it’s an initiation ritual.”

“A strange sort of initiation.”

“Stranger than killing for sneakers? Let me assure you, I won’t allow this to happen again in my town.” The Chief’s eyes were blazing, his lips drawn tight.

This was more than a reputation protect; Biancho took the shooting as a personal affront. Still, I was reluctant to stop my pitch. “I appreciate your confidence and dedication but...”

“But what? Vibrations and trampled grass in the woods? You know how ridiculous you sound? Nobody was following her.”

“I said nobody was following her when I was there. That doesn’t exactly...”

“Spare me, Jacob. The car was a typical example of city life, and frankly, Lauren Rowe’s intuition doesn’t make for fact. Especially when I’m looking at something that’s happened before.”

I hadn’t the conviction to shake him. Or the logic. “Well,” I conceded, “let me help with the gang angle.”

He barely restrained his contempt. “What makes you think I’d let a private cop work a police case? They do that in Boston?” Impatience piggybacked onto Biancho’s scorn. “It’s time to drop this. I’ll see that Lauren and your father-in-law are safe.”

“You told me there are people in town who would be happy to see Lauren move,” I tried weakly, struck with the irony of the situation. I’d spent my entire life crossing the street to avoid a cop. Here I was pleading to work with them only to be unceremoniously rejected.

Before I could mourn my loss, Biancho turned nasty. “Don’t even think about it, Jacob. If I see you here for any reason other than a family visit, you’re going to have a problem. A big problem.”

“Chief,” I asked in a very respectful tone once he finished, “there’s only one thing that still bothers me.”

“You’re getting on my nerves.”

“There was something odd about the drive-by itself. Why not shoot the windows or the walls? Why just the door?”

Biancho rolled his eyes, “I’ll make sure to ask when we track them down. Consider it lucky nobody was hurt and there was as little damage as there was.” He paused and pointed outside. “Go home, Jacob, go home and count your lucky stars.”

 

No way to delay; it was time to mind my business. I had a bad taste in my mouth and I expected worse. But halfway to the city I heard Al Green’s song play in my head and it sent me back to my personal puzzle. Had me wondering whether my lousy attitude toward Lauren and Lou’s relationship, my freak at Boots’ TV talk, my passive cheat with Alexis all came from fears of a permanent relationship.

I hoped not. Hoped so hard I made myself look forward to seeing Boots.

Until I drove down my alley and saw her talking to Washington Clifford on the small half-court tucked between the buildings—a sweet throw-in when Richard designed our renovation.

I stalled as long as possible before approaching with a pleasant smile. “Did I miss something?” I asked, forcing myself to wink at Boots who seemed relieved. “Day off?”

“Travel comp,” Boots replied. “I got here a few minutes ago.”

“I got here earlier,” Clifford said. “Helped myself to your ball.”

Which had been inside my apartment, something he failed to mention. As would I. Clifford’s short muscular arm circling the basketball looked menacing. Or maybe it was the gun in his back holster. His forty-four short hung on the chain-link fence that separated my alley from the grocery store’s parking lot.

“Looks like you’ve been shooting around,” I observed. Clifford’s light blue shirt was damp, perspiration ringing his thick neck.”

“You got a soft rim. Helps with the shot. Nice friend too, though I don’t understand what she sees in you.”

“Boots appreciates my hidden qualities.”

“Boots’s feet are tired and she wants down.” Boots glanced at me, “I’ll let myself in. Anyway, I have a feeling you boys want to be alone. I’ve heard a lot about you Officer Washington.”

“That’s Clifford, Ma’am. Washington Clifford. Best not believe everything your friend tells you. Oh,” he added casually, “you won’t need a key. I left the door open.” His teeth gleamed against his ebony skin. He was the only man who could grin and grind his molars at the same time. You never knew whether he was getting ready to laugh—or bite.

And I wasn’t talking breakfast.

“Thoughtful of you to pave the way, Officer,” Boots commented walking away.

Both Washington Clifford and I stood silently until she passed through the alley door.

“Good looking lady, Jacobs,” Clifford growled. “Play any of this?” he asked, bouncing the ball.

“When I get a chance.” Why did each bounce sound like a warning?

“Big guy’s game, right?”

“Spud Webb did all right.”

“Yes he did,” Clifford agreed, his lips tightening at the comparison. “Care for a little one-on-one?”

It wasn’t a request. I flipped my denim jacket onto the fence next to his double knit. “Losers out.”

“Winners,” he corrected.

I nodded.

“Take it back?” This time I asked.

“Hell no, we’re talking playground here.” He showed more teeth. “You know how that works, don’t you, shamus? Damn near anything goes.”

His “damn near” was a relief. Meant I’d live to tell Boots about the game.

“I’ll take it out,” Clifford demanded. “It’s your court.”

My court, his game. Clifford slammed his shoulder into my chest before I leaned into position. I staggered backwards while he went for an uncontested lay-up.

“Better “d-up,” Jacobs.”

“I’ll give it the old college try, Wash, but I barely graduated.” I stiffened, expecting another shoulder but this time he turned 180 and backed into me with his granite ass. I held my ground until I felt his holster rubbing against my belt. When I stepped away, Clifford spun unmolested for another easy bucket.

“C’mon, Wash, you packing an empty?”

“What’s the worry? You enjoy playing with danger.”

“Sorry, Officer, I want to see your face when your gun goes off.”

“Pussy,” he said, unbuckling the leather and placing it alongside my building. “Try not to trip. Wouldn’t want a relentless detective to shoot his own foot.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Damn careful, though not about the gun. Clifford wasn’t interested in finesse, preferring brute strength to push, hip, and force his way to the hoop. The longer we played, the more he used the game as an excuse to pummel my body. A knee here, chop there, following me even when I backed away. I was too busy protecting myself to notice whether he traveled.

I was also careful not to hit back. Beating on a cop, no matter what the guise, wasn’t smart. Beating on Clifford was suicidal. Instead, I shot my jumper and kept the game close. Not too close, though there were a few times when I couldn’t resist using my height to snatch a rebound off his fingertips. In fact, I’d just made my best put-back, feet never hitting the court after his miss, when the powder keg stopped the contest with a sharp elbow to my face.

I kept my teeth, but he’d added a bleeding mouth to go with the sore body.

“Did I foul you?” Clifford asked innocently.

“See why I asked you to put the gun away?”

“What about your gun? Chief Biancho told you to stay away from his fucking turf.”

Clifford’s remark surprised me but I tried to cover. “I came directly home, Wash. Didn’t pass Go, didn’t collect two hundred. Just a bleeding mouth.”

“Something to shut you up. Biancho warned you off before, didn’t he?”

“If you know he talked to me today, you know why I was there.” The real question was why Biancho had bothered with Clifford at all. I wasn’t going to ask. I wanted the blood to stop trickling.

“If all you’d done was inquire about that situation, you’d be inside playing with that pretty girl instead of being out here with me.” Clifford’s eyes were slits in his broad face and his quiet words underscored by two-handed explosions on the blacktop.

“I went there to tell him what I knew, that’s all.”

“Matt Jacobs, Mister Citizen. Who you trying to fuck?”

“I’d have to see you in a skirt, sweetheart.”

“Just can’t keep it zipped, can you?” The next slam bounced off my groin.

I dropped to my knees and tried to keep from vomiting.

Clifford talked while I stared at his heavy rubber ripple soles. “Biancho is a good cop. Had him as a student once upon a time. He don’t need a pigheaded P.I. offering help. I’d take him at his word.”

I braced myself for another blow but his feet stepped toward the fence. “Don’t move, asshole,” Clifford commanded, throwing my smokes and lighter in front of my unhappy face.

I lit one with shaking hands.

“Only reason I’m not laying on a real hurt is Biancho asked me to talk to you. You leave the police up there alone, you hear?”

“You’re being modest about the licking, Wash,” I quipped, unable to keep quiet.

Clifford shook his head regretfully. “You know me Jacobs, if I don’t plant a nice kick, it don’t really count.”

His ripple sole’d toe found my belly and I pitched forward, my struggle to keep from vomiting a lost cause.