Right now, South Side Chicago had the highest murder rate for school-age kids in the country. In the world, probably. Raymond was a bit above that average, age-wise, but I feared for him just the same. And not just because of the random violence. No, it was the non-random acts I was afraid of.
L’il Roy, to be exact. What that twisted mind would make of fallen hero Raymond Joseph, I had no idea. Maybe he’d make an example of him. Maybe he’d embrace him and raise him to second in command. I wasn’t sure which scenario would be worse.
I’m no saint – obviously – but this killing of innocent bystanders – kids – in turf wars seemed inconceivable to me.
But it was the way of life here. Detested. Feared. But somehow resigned to the fact.
I was white, raised in an upper middle class household in Wisconsin. My parents were still married to each other, for goodness sake. I had no concept of what it was like to grow up wondering if you’d make it home from school alive. How you couldn’t even send your kid out to the corner market to get a loaf of bread for fear they wouldn’t make it home.
Totally out of my realm. Which is why I felt so much better having Jack beside me.
We found Mrs. Joseph’s house – the house Raymond grew up in – without much difficulty, thanks to Lorelei’s MapQuest directions. It was early evening, but the night was already dark.
I don’t know what I expected, but it seemed like any small, struggling, poverty-line neighborhood. The houses were small, some rundown, but most had a look of…I don’t know…hope? about them. There were flowerpots on the porches. Though in Chicago, in February, there was nothing growing in them. It had been a mild winter for the Midwest this year, but the snow was still around our ankles. Some of the front walks were just trampled down from the inhabitants, but most were shoveled clean.
Jack made a show of stretching when he got out of the car so that his badge, clipped to his belt, clearly showed for the kids that were gathered on the corner, huddling against the cold. He left the door open, so the dome light illuminated him. Cold air blasted through the door and I bundled into my jacket, much like the kids on the corner were doing.
You would think the winters alone would help bring the shooting rate down. Maybe it did, but on the other hand, grouped together like they were, the kids were that much more a target for a drive-by shooter.
When he was sure the kids knew who he was – though not close enough to see his badge was from Vegas, not Chicago – he zipped up his leather jacket and came around the car to meet me as I zipped up mine and rubbed my hands together.
“All those arrangements and Lorelei didn’t send gloves or a scarf along?” he asked.
“She was raised in warm weather. It probably didn’t occur to her,” I said, jamming my hands into my pockets, watching my breath turn to near frost as I spoke.
“What’s your excuse?” he asked, I assumed referring to my Wisconsin upbringing.
“Lapse in judgment?” I said, covering all bases.
He did a double take, saw the goofy smile on my face and snorted. “Ya think?”
We made our way to the door. There were lights on so at least we knew she was home and still up.
“So, what’s your game plan here?” Jack asked.
“I need to find out exactly where Raymond is, though between Jimmy’s guy and your guy on the force I could probably get that anyway.
“I want to offer her a chance to take Raymond and her daughter and leave Chicago, either for just until this is all settled and Raymond has an option other than ending up being a bag man for L’il Roy, or indefinitely.
“If that doesn’t work, at the very least I want word to get to Raymond, hopefully through her, that I’m here, in Chicago.”
He nodded. “Any idea how she’s going to react to your offer? To you?”
I shook my head. “Not a clue. I don’t know how much she knows about how Raymond came up with the money for rehab. What he’s told her since. If she knows about JoJo.”
He scrubbed his hand across his face. “Don’t you get a little schizo talking about yourself like that? Like another person?”
“Vince said kind of the same thing.” I regretted it the moment it left my mouth. Even more after I saw the hard look on Jack’s face.
“You know this has to stop, right?”
I looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
He waved an arm around, encompassing…well, everything. “This. You. Bets. Loan sharks.” He dropped his voice to a mere whisper. “Point shaving. If you get out of this unscathed – and not indicted – it’s over. It has to be.”
“It’s done. I’m done. That’s why Raymond went out looking for a stake. ‘Cuz I quit.”
His brow rose. I cursed the Josephs’ front porch light that let me see it so clearly. “Really. I haven’t placed a bet in ten days, Jack.”
“Seriously?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I know I can’t do that anymore. I mean, look where it’s gotten me.” Much like him, I waved my arms around encompassing our current situation.
He stood for a long time watching me. I didn’t flinch. Finally he turned to the front door. “Let’s do this,” he said as he knocked firmly.
The door opened fairly quickly – it was a small house. The woman took one look at us and started to shut the door in our faces. It caught me off guard, but Jack was prepared and had his body lodged somewhat in the doorframe.
“I’m not talking to any of you people. Nothing but vultures, all of you,” she said.
“Ma’am, we’re not the media,” Jack said.
That didn’t seem to stop her. “I don’t care who you are or aren’t. Get off my property.”
Jack looked at me, his brows raised. He started to reach into his jacket, toward his belt, I figured to get his badge. I hadn’t wanted to go that route if possible, in case I needed to use more strong-arm tactics later, but I didn’t want to talk to Mrs. Joseph through a locked door, either.
“Mrs. Joseph,” I said as softly as I could while still being heard. “I’m JoJo.”
I half expected a repeat of “I don’t care who you are…”, but instead she looked closely at me then opened the door for Jack and me. She stepped several feet back, and Jack and I brushed our feet off on the front mat and entered her home, closing the door behind us. The foyer was tiny, not really an alcove even, just a mat on a floor and a table against one wall facing a closet with an accordion folding door that was off its track.
We stood on the small rug just inside the door, our shoes still wet from the shoveled sidewalk. She was a few feet away from us, squarely in the small living room. I took the majority of the tiny house in with one sweep of my head. Past where we stood was a hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom. A dining room to the right, and from there a galley kitchen. The dining room table was old and nicked, but sturdy. Like it had served many a family meal. The kitchen didn’t have the myriad of gadgets that mine did, nor the expensive countertops and cabinets, but it looked homey and bright. And clean. As was the living room, with its small television, faded floral couch, coffee table and La-Z-Boy recliner that had seen better days. I’d seen one just like it in Raymond’s Dubuque apartment the one time I’d been there. I absently wondered if they’d once upon a time been a set.
The house may have been tiny and its furniture out of date, but it was spotless. And no clutter, which was kind of weird in a home with a teenage daughter and a college-aged son, except neither of those two had been around here much lately.
Another thought occurred to me. Raymond hadn’t used any of his money for upgrades on the house. The way he’d talked about his mother, so full of pride at the job she’d done raising him and his sister, I would have thought to see new furniture and a big-screen TV.
I’d warned him not to do that, of course, but I wouldn’t have blamed him for wanting to help out his mother. But he hadn’t. He’d been smart. That, and the money was probably all tied up in his sister’s drug rehab.
“Is it all right if my friend and I talk with you for a little bit?”
I’m pretty bad at guessing people’s ages, but I’d put her in her late thirties, early forties. She’d had her kids young. She had short hair that she wore in a shag cut, though one side looked a little flatter than the other, like maybe she’d been laying down when we’d arrived. But she was still dressed. She wore a simple, light-blue cardigan sweater set and navy slacks. Work clothes. I knew she worked as a receptionist in an office, and at various times in Raymond’s life had taken second and sometimes third jobs when needed.
Bright pink, fuzzy socks that seemed so out of place in her neat appearance peeked out from the cuff of her pants. Had she worn those to work? Or put them on when she’d gotten home? I didn’t know why I cared.
“You come from Raymond? He’s okay?”
“No ma’am, I haven’t spoken to Raymond in awhile.” The woman seemed to deflate before my eyes, and I realized she’d had as much hope for this meeting as I did. Maybe she’d thought the mysterious JoJo would be some white knight that could ride in and save her son. Hardly.
“Come on in, then, but I don’t know that I’m going to be able to tell you anything.”
I kicked off my shoes, and Jack followed my lead. She held out her hands for our jackets, which we gave to her and she hung up in the closet, working the off-track door like she’d been doing it for years. She probably had.
She led us into the living room and sat on one side of the couch. I sat on the other, and Jack took his place on the recliner, leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs. I looked at his belt loop and his badge was gone. He must have taken it off when he’d removed his jacket. It didn’t really matter. He’d shown those kids outside his badge, and that news would probably get back to Mrs. Joseph eventually, but he obviously didn’t want to start this conversation with her knowing he was a cop.
I thought that was the right move. I also thought I should find out exactly how much Mrs. Joseph knew about what was going on.
“Mrs. Joseph, what has Raymond told you about me?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Unh-uh. You tell me about you and Raymond.”
Smart woman, not giving anything away. But then, neither would I if I could help it. We could pussy-foot around all night, feeling each other out, dropping hints without saying anything. I looked around the room. Every space on the wall and every surface of the end tables were covered with pictures of her kids at various ages. Some were the standard school pictures, some were various team shots of Raymond.
My eyes went to a picture of her daughter, now fifteen, in what was probably her third – or fourth – grade picture. I took a deep breath. That was as a good a place to start as any.
“How’s your daughter doing, Mrs. Joseph?” I didn’t say it with a menacing double entendre of a strong arm, but it hadn’t been with real warmth and concern either. She could take it either way.
If she’d deflated before when I’d said I hadn’t seen Raymond, she nearly crumbled when I brought up her daughter. Then, with the steel of a woman who’s raised two kids alone in a shitty neighborhood with a low-paying job, she gathered herself, sitting up straight on the couch.
She looked at me with a calm exterior, but I’d been playing poker way too long to be taken in. “I don’t know whether to thank you or wish you dead.”
“A sentiment most of those in her acquaintance come to sooner or later,” Jack piped in from his chair.
I ignored Jack, but Mrs. Joseph looked at him carefully, as if perhaps she’d written him off too quickly.
“So, she’s doing better? Your daughter?” I asked, trying to get back on track.
She put her head down, and nodded. “Yes. Yes, she is.” Her head came up. “She’s almost ready to come home.”
“That’s good.”
She made a sound that was somewhere between a gurgle and a chuckle, but I could hear pain, too. “Is it?” She shook her head. “Of course it is. My baby’s coming home.” She spread her arms wide. “And what a homecoming she’s gonna have.”
“Mrs. Joseph, what – ”
“Halia,” she interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“Halia. Short for Mahalia. I think we’re to a first-name basis, don’t you? JoJo?”
“Yes, Halia, I do.” She waved for me to go on. “What exactly has Raymond told you?”
“About you, you mean? Or what’s happening now?”
“Both,” Jack said before I could.
She looked at him again, then her gaze turned to mine. “I know my baby girl was not going to make it. That my insurance wouldn’t cover a rehab stay, and for her to try and get clean living in this neighborhood wasn’t going to work.” Her voice turned defensive when she said, “I was a good mother. It wasn’t easy alone. And living here with what all those children see even on the walk to school. I did the best I could by my babies.”
I held my hand up. “Halia. I know Raymond. I know you raised him right. There’s no way he would have done what he did if it wasn’t to help his sister.”
“DeeDee. D’eeandra, but Raymond couldn’t say it when he was little, so she was DeeDee to him. It stuck.”
“DeeDee,” I said softly. I of course, had done my homework before even approaching Raymond with the first game weeks ago and knew his sister’s name, but I’d never said it to him. It was a tactic that I hadn’t wanted to use, making it too personal.
Well, there wasn’t much less personal than sitting in a woman’s living room, making her defend her mothering skills.
“Halia, lots of kids get mixed up in drugs. Rich people’s kids. Poor. Single parents. Married. This wasn’t all on you.
“I was raised in a great family, nice neighborhood, parents together, siblings that I got along with.” I raised and dropped my hands in a helpless gesture. I swallowed hard then said, “And I’m a gambling addict. It’s a crap shoot.”
But she didn’t seem to hear me. She was staring at a picture of Raymond and DeeDee that sat on the coffee table in front of us. Raymond was maybe seven or eight, and he held toddler DeeDee’s hand. His trademark smile had already developed, and he looked at his sister, not the camera, with adoring eyes.
“I didn’t want nobody’s money. I still don’t. I just wanted my baby healthy. And safe.”
“I know.”
“And she is. Was.”
“She will be, Halia. She will be.”
She focused on me again. “All I want is my daughter clean and with me and my boy safe and out of reach of that L’il Roy. Can you make that happen?” There was dismissal and scorn in her voice.
“Yes. I can make that happen.”
I saw Jack shift in his chair, but he wisely didn’t say anything.
“How?” Halia said.
“I’m not sure yet. I have some ideas. But I need to know exactly what Raymond has told the authorities.”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing? I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true. He wouldn’t say anything. Not even to Coach Wayne, who he respects more than anyone in the world. But he wouldn’t confirm or deny nothing. To nobody. That’s why Coach Wayne said it’d be a good idea if Raymond left school for a bit.”
“And since then?”
“Every time they came to question him, he said he had nothing to say, and if they wanted to formally charge him then he’d have his attorney meet them at the police station.” She smiled grimly. “Kids in this neighborhood learn their rights early.”
“Halia, did Raymond tell you I might contact you?”
She nodded. “He said you might call. Right before he left.”
“I was told you kicked him out.”
She shook her head. “No. After the second day of people parked on our front walk and calls – Lord, there were the phone calls – he left.” Her voice cracked a bit at the last. She was used to him being gone, but there was a big difference between knowing your kid was safe on the campus of a major university and being cloistered with the neighborhood’s worst gangster. “I begged him to stay. But he left.”
“To protect you,” I needlessly said.
She nodded. “He’s always felt he had to take care of me. And DeeDee.”
“Halia, you know if this doesn’t go away soon, it’s going to get worse. There’s no paper trail, but sooner or later somebody’s going to figure out your insurance didn’t really cover DeeDee’s rehab stay.”
“That’s exactly what Raymond said. That’s when he said you might be trying to contact him here.”
He’d probably thrown his phone away, smart kid, and knew that I’d have to resort to going through his mother. Or maybe he wanted to put his mother between us if I came looking for him?
“What did he tell you to tell me if I called you?”
“To find out what you can do to help him.”
I took a deep breath and looked at Jack, who shrugged at me. Helping Raymond would help me. And Vince. That’s what Raymond was counting on.
“All right. Let me give you my phone number. And the name of the hotel we’re staying at. I’d like you to set up a meet with Raymond and me. Do you think you can do that?”
She’d jumped up and was bringing me paper and pen. I ripped the paper from the tablet and put it on the hard coffee table. I’d seen one too many cop shows where they’d etched on the pad and gotten the bad guy’s phone number.
So, I guess that made me the bad guy?
“Yes. I can do that. He said if you contacted me, it would probably be better to go through me than for you to contact him directly.”
“He was right. But there’s some things he and I need to say face to face.” I handed her the paper with my phone number and our hotel name. “Obviously, you need to lose this after this is all over.”
She nodded, looked at the paper and put it in her pants pocket.
“Halia, if you had the means, could you take DeeDee out of rehab and you, she and Raymond go somewhere else?”
“What do you mean?”
“If I were able to get you an apartment or rent a house for the three of you for awhile, until this all died down – ”
“You mean run from the law?”
I looked over at Jack, who only waited for me to continue. “No. Nothing like that. I mean when we’re sure that Raymond won’t be arr…brought in for questioning. To get the three of you out of this neighborhood. Make a fresh start somewhere. Is DeeDee strong enough to leave rehab?”
Halia nodded. “She’s supposed to come home soon. I think that’s why – ” She clamped her mouth shut.
“Why what?”
She looked from me to Jack and back again. “Raymond told me what JoJo looked like so I’d know it was you if you got ahold of me. But I don’t know nothing about this man.”
“He’s…it’s fine. He’s a friend trying to help me out.”
She looked back to Jack, who looked at Halia for a moment then gave a slight nod.
Apparently, that was enough for her. “DeeDee’s well enough to come out of rehab and enter into some sort of treatment that she can do at home. But we – Raymond and I – were so worried about her coming right back into this area. Him at school, me having to work, nobody to keep an eye on her. I told Raymond it would be better if we could start new somewhere else. Get out of this place.” She wrung her hands, looked down at her feet. “But I didn’t have any money for that. The rehab took all the money Raymond…earned. I told him that.” Her voice was cracking as she said, “I told him we could do it, leave here, with a little more money.”
So that’s why he’d gone to Bubba Kinney for a stake. One last time to get his mother and sister out of harm’s way. And it had to be done fast as Central Iowa’s window of being a favorite was closing. JoJo had told him that.
And then walked away.
An immense rush of relief went through me that this hadn’t all been about greed for Raymond. He hadn’t been entirely consumed by the voice. It had been waging war with genuine need. He’d just needed one more big score.
And yet, it was always that one last job that tripped you up.
I leaned forward and patted her knee. “It’s okay, Halia. But maybe you should start making those arrangements for the three of you to find a place where DeeDee can continue treatment in a safer environment.
“I have a sister near Atlanta. In a real nice, safe area. I’d thought to go there. I’d even contacted her, and she got me some information on a place where DeeDee could see somebody.”
“That sounds great.”
“But there’s no money for that, now.”
“You let me worry about that. Just make your plans.”
“But…”
I changed the subject back to our most important issue. “So Raymond really thinks that’s all the authorities have? Still? Just this Bubba Kinney?”
She nodded again. “Yes. He seems pretty sure of it.”
“Then Bubba Kinney has to go away.”
“How does that happen?”
“Yeah, JoJo,” Jack said, piping in for the first time. “How exactly does that happen?”