Although they gave no specific details, the police released a statement the following day that Griff Slocum was in possession of a valuable item on the night he had been murdered. On his body had been found a handwritten will directing the item to be sent to his mother upon his death, though neither she nor anyone else knew of its existence.
The item had been stolen, undoubtedly by the person who had murdered him.
Everybody at Cesar Chavez High speculated about the item at lunch the next day. Some thought he had owned a diamond ring, maybe from some lost relationship. Some thought it might have been a fine watch. With a glint in his eye, Julio Avila said, “He was crazy about baseball cards. His mom said he traded ’em all away for drugs. But maybe not. Maybe he kept one. Maybe he kept the best one.”
There were not enough streetlights on Washington. The local business people were always pleading for better lighting. They had gone to the city council before Emilio Zapata Ibarra was on the council, and the local councilman, Monte Esposito, said it was not a first priority. Now since the murder of Griff Slocum, the chorus of demands for better lighting increased.
The city council was taking up the matter on Monday afternoon, and Ernesto and Naomi went down to listen. As they walked into the council chambers, they spotted some of the businesspeople, including Mr. Hussam who sat in front beside the lady who ran the thrift store.
“We have two businesspeople with us this afternoon,” Mr. Ibarra began the session. “The tragic murder of Mr. Griff Slocum occurred on Washington Street, close to their places of business.”
Mr. Hussam seemed very nervous as he spoke. In the country where he came from, it was very dangerous to confront the authorities with a complaint. Men had been found dead in alleys for doing less than that. But Mr. Hussam had known Griff Slocum for quite some time and knew he was a decent man who deserved better than having his head caved in on a dark street.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the council,” Mr. Hussam said, “I think if Washington Street had more streetlights, there would be less crime. Criminals like to work in the dark. I do not know if the boys who tormented Mr. Slocum on the night he died had anything to do with his murder, but I do not think those boys would have done such a thing on a well-lit street where passing cars would have seen the evil act. I have seen gang members on the street at night, and it is dangerous for pedestrians to walk there. I am asking you to put in more streetlights for everybody’s sake, maybe in honor of Mr. Slocum who died in the darkness.”
Applause swept the room, and Mr. Hussam smiled and made a small bow before hurrying back to his seat.
Miriam Ocasa, who ran the thrift store, spoke then. “I work late at night on my inventory, and I’m scared to even walk to my car in that dark spot. Now I look at where the poor man died, and there is no light at all. There are lights about fifteen feet away, but whoever killed the poor man was able to do his deed in the dark, and I hope we do something about that today.”
Applause followed Ms. Ocasa’s comments as well, and then the council took up the issue.
One of the councilmen said, “Of course, I would like to add more streetlights, but I would also like to keep the libraries open longer. I would like to repair more potholes. We cannot do everything, and streetlights are not the most important project.”
A councilwoman stood to say, “I think we should commission a study of this problem and ask the members of the commission to get back to us when they can.”
Ernesto groaned and looked at Naomi. “A favorite stalling tactic,” he mumbled. “Pass the buck to some commission and maybe people will forget about it.”
One of Councilman Ibarra’s aides, David Morales, leaned over to talk to the councilman. David Morales was Paul Morales’s brother, and he had been in prison for two years. When he got out, he couldn’t find a job. In a gesture of kindness that blew David and his brother away, Mr. Ibarra hired him. Now David Morales was Mr. Ibarra’s best aide. He was on top of every issue, and he had every fact at the tips of his fingers. He was able to deal with angry constituents and send them away happy.
David Morales now handed Mr. Ibarra a folder. It was the result of the research on the problem that David had done.
Mr. Ibarra addressed the council after scanning the folder. “My aide, Mr. Morales, has given me statistics to the effect that street crime declines as much as forty percent when streets are well-lit. In some cases, the decline is even higher. And this is for all kinds of crime: mugging, assault, robbery. Mr. Morales has discovered that Washington Street is well-lit in most areas, but the space between lights is noticeably wider in this particular area.”
Mr. Ibarra pressed on. “The twentyfour-seven store Mr. Hussam owns and the thrift store Ms. Ocasa owns occupy the darkest areas of the street. I believe these businesses have been neglected owing to the type of clientele, poorer people. I am therefore offering to vote for a motion to immediately remedy this injustice by installing appropriate streetlights that will illuminate the area.” Mr. Ibarra paused.
“It is too late to save Mr. Slocum. I cannot say if more lighting would have dissuaded those wicked boys from harassing the man, or if it might have prevented the murder, but if there had been good lighting, a life might have been saved. So in honor of the poor soul who, as Mr. Hussam said, died in the darkness, I urge an affirmative vote,” Carmen’s father concluded.
“He’s good,” Ernesto whispered to Naomi. “Man, he’s good.”
Naomi smiled. “Yeah, he’s quite an orator,” she said.
When the city council voted, only two people voted against the new lights. The motion passed to loud applause.
Mr. Ibarra turned to David and patted him on the shoulder. He had once more done the research and given Mr. Ibarra the ammunition to run with the motion.
After the city council had adjourned, David Morales and a close friend from the office, Livy Majors, met Ernesto and Naomi for lunch. David and Livy were dating now, and Ernesto was really happy for both of them. In spite of the fact that he’d broken into stores and served two years in prison, David Morales was at heart a good person. He had accepted responsibility for what he’d done. He made no excuses and turned his life around.
“Mr. Ibarra was great, wasn’t he?” David said. “I’m so proud to work for him. He’s done more for the people in the barrio than all his predecessors put together.”
“With this dude’s help,” Livy said, squeezing David’s hand and smiling at him.
“I’m glad a light is going on in that dark spot where poor Mr. Slocum died,” Naomi said. “Everybody is wondering what Mr. Slocum had that somebody would kill him for. I’m hearing all kinds of rumors.”
“Yeah,” David said. “Apparently it was worth an incredible amount of money. To think that a man who seemed destitute was carrying around something so valuable.”
“David, you know Julio Avila, my friend?” Ernesto asked.
“Sure, I’ve met him. Quite a runner,” David said. “And I understand his father befriended Mr. Slocum.”
“Yeah, well, Julio has a theory that the valuable item Mr. Slocum was killed for was a baseball card. You know Mr. Slocum was a baseball card collector, but I guess he traded most of them away, but Julio thinks he kept a really rare one.”
“The only card I can think of that’d be worth what they seem to be hinting at is a Honus Wagner,” David said.
“Wouldn’t it be unbelievable if Griff had a Honus Wagner?” Ernesto asked. “There he was, living on the street, and he could have sold the card and had a decent life.”
David’s expression grew serious. “Maybe if it was a card, it became more than that to him. Maybe it stood for all the lost dreams. Maybe it connected him to the man he wanted to be.”
“If it was a baseball card, the cops know it, and if the murderer tries to sell it, won’t he get caught?” Ernesto asked as he finished his BLT.
“Well, I unfortunately know a little bit about that,” David said. “When Augie and I would steal stuff, Augie had some really sophisticated fences who’d take hot stuff. Some collector might want a Honus Wagner so bad he’d trade for a hot one under the table, even one with blood on it.”
Ernesto shook his head. “To kill a guy like that. It’s so sick. Poor Griff probably fought for it. It would have been like parting with the only good thing he had.”
“You know what,” Naomi said. “Carmen and I were just walking down Washington Street that really hot day we had last August. It must have been a hundred in the shade. We’d just bought some paletas and were enjoying them. We passed Griff and he stared at our paletas, and he had such a longing in his eyes. We turned around and got one for him. He was so happy. I remember it was grape. Then I noticed something I’d never seen before. His shirt was way open because of the heat, and I saw he had a chain around his neck and a sort of little leather pouch attached to the chain, like what was inside was important. I wonder if—”
“Those guys who were coming at him with sticks and making him jump around in fear,” Ernesto said. “They might have seen the pouch on the chain too. One of them maybe came back to check out what was so important to Griff Slocum that he kept it in a pouch like that.”
Livy Majors looked very sad. “That could’ve been. The man was weak and wasted. Whoever came to take what he had probably thought he’d give it up without a fight, but he probably found strength he never thought he had, and the only way they could get the thing was to, you know, put him down. Whatever it was, a baseball card or whatever, it was something to die for. That’s what he must have thought anyway.”
“Ernie,” David said, “you know that guy Rod Garcia pretty well. I know you don’t like him, but do you think he’d have it in him to do something so monstrous?”
“No,” Ernesto said, “but then I’m no judge, man. Clay Aguirre is always accusing me of having a soft spot in my heart for guys who aren’t any good. I think I always give somebody the benefit of the doubt.”
“The other two guys who were with Garcia,” David said, “you know them?”
“Rod’s cousin, Humberto, he’s a bully, but nothing to raise the red flag. I don’t know Rick at all. I have to believe some other guy came along and, you know, took advantage of the situation,” Ernesto said.
David nodded. “When I was in prison, I got to know a lot of guys who did awful things. Most of them, you know, were pretty ordinary, like the guys you meet every day. Sometimes something just snaps—jealousy, greed, lust. I know I was in a really dark place in prison. I’d given up hope. If it hadn’t been for Paul being so faithful, coming to see me every chance he got. I didn’t even care that he was yelling at me and calling me names. He was there. He loved me in spite of everything. He’s such a good guy. I owe him everything,” David said.
Ernesto went over to see Abel Ruiz after school the next day. Abel was not as good a student as Ernesto, and he was hung up on a science project. Ernesto worked with him for two hours and got it done. Then he headed home.
Penelope Ruiz, Abel’s fourteen-yearold sister and a freshman at Chavez, had stayed at school late for music lessons, and she came home on her bike. Her mother was allowing that again after several months of insisting that Penelope be picked up and driven home. Penelope had seemed to mature quite a bit.
“Hey, Penny,” Ernesto greeted her. She was cute, if a tiny bit overweight. She loved candies and cookies.
“Hey, Ernie,” Penny said, slamming down her books. “What a freakin’ bad day I had!”
“What’s up?” Abel asked.
“Oh, Abel, me and you, we’re losers. We lost out in the DNA department. Tomás got all the good stuff. Our brother is charming, cute, smart, with lots of girlfriends. You got dumped by Claudia, and me, I can’t even get a boyfriend!” Penelope raved.
“You’re only fourteen,” Ernesto said. “There’s plenty of time for boyfriends when you’re older.”
“You sound just like Mom,” Penelope exploded.
Liza Ruiz had been showering, but now she came out, wrapped in a terry cloth robe, a towel turban on her head. “What did you say, young lady?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” Penelope said. “It’s just that I hate school so much. Bratty kids and boring teachers. Every single girl in the freshman class has a boyfriend except me. Everybody hates me, especially the boys.”
“Penelope Ruiz,” Mom scolded, “will you stop that! When I was your age, I was still playing with my Barbie dolls, and the closest thing I had to a boyfriend was Ken!”
Penelope collapsed on the couch, clutching her head. “Oh my gosh, that’s so ridiculous I think I’m gonna barf! I should play with dolls?” she cried. She jumped up and went to the end table where there were two small ivory dancers. Penelope clutched them and said, “Hello, Igor, meet Babette!”
“Stop it,” Mom snarled. She looked at Ernesto. “Isn’t she terrible? I’m really mortified. Your sisters are nice and sweet, aren’t they, Ernie? Not like Penny.”
“Well, Katalina is only nine, and she’s already ditched her teddy bear,” Ernesto said.
“I want a boyfriend,” Penelope wailed. “I don’t mean a hot romance. I just want a guy who’s nice to me and maybe holds my hand once in a while. That witchy Lacey Serrano, she’s got the coolest boyfriend. He’s a junior! And he buys her beautiful things, not trinkets. He got her an awesome necklace from Osterman’s Jewelry Store.”
“A junior dude dating a freshman?” Ernesto asked frowning. “Not good.”
“So what?” Penelope yelled. “I’m almost fifteen, and the juniors are sixteen. What’s the big deal? Berto Gomez is soooo handsome. That nasty Lacey doesn’t deserve a cute jock like him.”
“Humberto Gomez?” Ernesto repeated the name. “Little Lacey Serrano is dating him?”
“She’s not little,” Penelope scoffed. “You should see her. She’s huge. She wears her mother’s stuff. She thinks she’s the hottest thing in the whole school. She stands there and waits for Berto after school, and he picks her up in his car and kisses her!”
“She’s a creep,” Ernesto said grimly. “Before Ms. Sanchez got after her, she’d taunt poor Angel Roma and her sick grandmother when they’d go for a walk.”
“I don’t care,” Penelope said. “All I know is she’s got a great boyfriend and I don’t!”
“Penelope,” Ernesto said rather sternly, “Humberto Gomez is a creep too. He got stoned the other night, and he and his buddies were tormenting poor Griff Slocum, pretending he was a bull and they were matadors. I’m shocked that Lacey’s mother lets Lacey go around with somebody like that.”
Abel had been silent, but now he turned to his sister. “Penny, don’t be so anxious for a boyfriend. I wanted a girlfriend real bad, and Claudia Villa made me really happy, but then she dumped me, and it wasn’t worth it. I’m seventeen, and the next time I get involved with a girl, I’m gonna be much, much older. I’m doing fine by myself,” he said.
Penny looked at her brother. They didn’t always get along, but generally he was a decent brother. Penelope never doubted that Abel really did love her. “But, Abel, you don’t understand. Every girl in the freshman class is talking about their boyfriends, and I feel like a freak!”
Ernesto wasn’t thinking about the argument going on between Penelope and her family. He was thinking about Humberto Gomez. There were few boys in the barrio with enough money to buy jewelry at Osterman’s. You couldn’t get out of there without spending at least a couple hundred. The Gomez family was lower middle class.
“Penelope,” Ernesto said, “how do you know this Gomez dude got Lacey something expensive from Osterman’s?”
“Oh, she brags all the time, the little witch,” Penelope said bitterly. “I’d like to wrap that necklace around her neck and tighten it.”
“But how do you know it’s not some cheapie necklace from the drugstore and Gomez just wanted to act big so he told her it was from Osterman’s?” Ernesto pressed.
Penelope rolled her eyes. “She showed me the sales slip, dumbo! It cost a hundred and eighty dollars!” she said.
“Don’t call my homie ‘dumbo,’ Penny,” Abel said.
Ernesto’s head was spinning. Humberto Gomez had enough money to get a little twit like Lacey a necklace for a hundred and eighty dollars? He drove a beater and sometimes came to school without lunch. Was Humberto already reaping the rewards of the crime that left Griff Slocum dead by a dumpster in the alley on Washington?