Blood Passage (27 page)

Hank let his eyes wander around the apartment. “He here now?”

“
No, sir, he’s upstairs.”

Hank frowned. “Upstairs?”

“
On the roof.” Jenkins pointed at the ceiling. “He spends most of his time up there, even sleeps there when the weather’s good. He has a little garden up there where he grows things.”

“
He’s been up there how long tonight?”

“
Since seven o’clock or so. I fixed supper and he took a plate up with him and I haven’t seen him since. He has an old rocking chair that he likes to sit in, just rocking and listening to the sounds of the city.” Jenkins looked at Hank with a serious expression on his face. “He’s not quite right in the head, you understand. My wife and I were older when we had him, in our forties, which was late. He was our only child. My wife died giving birth to him and I raised him myself from a baby. But he has a learning disability. He’s a little slow.”

“
I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Jenkins.”

“
He’s a very nice boy,” Jenkins added quickly, “don’t worry about that. He’s very kind and gentle, a quiet boy with very deep feelings. He just never developed intellectually. The doctors said mentally he’d always be ten years old. If you could be careful not to frighten him, I’d be very much obliged. He’s never talked to the police before.”

“
I’ll do my best,” Hank said. He and Johnson left the apartment and went back into the stairwell. “How many floors does this building have, anyway?” Hank wondered aloud.

“
Ten,” Johnson replied.

They plodded up the stairs until they found themselves before a metal door with the word
ROOF
stenciled on it in faded red paint. Hank glanced at Johnson and drew his weapon. He removed his penlight and held it in a sword grip beneath his gun so that the index finger was able to turn the light on and the bottom three fingers enclosed the gripping fingers of his weapon hand.

Johnson nodded and drew his gun, adding his larger patrol officer’s flashlight in a Marine Corps grip, his hands pressed together and the rim of the flashlight pressed against the tips of the fingers holding his weapon. “If it’s a grow op, he may be a little protective. He might not be the nice boy the old man thinks he is.”

“
My thoughts exactly.”

Hank put his hip into the crash bar and pushed the door open. He moved his gun and penlight around, saw nothing threatening, and stepped out onto the roof. They stood beneath a trellis and arbor arrangement that was covered with plants on both sides and across the top. It looked as though it had been made with scrap two-by-fours and softwood strapping. He took several steps forward and Johnson followed, letting the door ease quietly closed behind him. Their feet crunched softly in the grit that covered the roof. They cleared the arbor. Hank took the left, Johnson the right. There were plants everywhere, growing in salvaged containers of all shapes and sizes. Hank looked at staked tomatoes, carrots, snow peas and many other vegetables, plus other plants that looked like herbs. It was hard to tell for certain in the darkness, but none of the plants appeared to be illegal. Hank marveled at all the work involved in putting the arbor together, collecting the material and containers, and hauling the soil up to the roof.

A slight crunching sound brought Hank’s hands around. His penlight moved across a figure sitting in a rocking chair and came back just as Johnson’s flashlight found it from the right. They stared at a dark figure with wild hair and a thick woolly beard. He wore a black t-shirt, stained khaki trousers and rubber boots. He held a hand up to his eyes to shield them from the flashlight.

“
Stand up slowly, sir,” Hank ordered, “with your hands out in front of you where we can see them.”

The man sat still, unable or unwilling to move.

“
Sir,’ Hank repeated, softening his voice a little, “I’d like for you to stand up now and show us both your hands. Can you do that for me?”

“
Uh huh,” the man said, bringing his other hand up in front of his face.

“
Okay, now stand up slowly.”

“
Uh huh.” The man stood up, hands dropping to his sides.

“
Slowly now,” Hank warned, “and keep your hands up where I can see them.”

“
Sorry, I forgot,” the man said, abruptly thrusting his hands high over his head like a stage coach holdup victim in an old western movie.

Officer Johnson moved in and quickly gave him a pat down as Hank covered him with the gun and penlight. Johnson nodded and stepped back.

“
Are you Charley Jenkins?” Hank asked.

The man nodded vigorously. “That’s me. Charley.”

“
Okay, well, you can put your hands down, Charley, it’s all right.” Hank holstered his weapon. The man’s intellectual disability was immediately evident, as was his desire to please. “We just want to talk to you for a few minutes, if that’s all right.”

“
Okay,” Charley said. “You want me to turn on the lights?”

“
You have lights up here?”

“
Yeah.”

“
Okay, that might be good.”

Charley shuffled down a row of garden beds and plugged an extension cord into another cord jutting from a ventilation shaft, turning on a series of white Christmas tree bulbs tied to the arbor. It was enough light to see around this part of the roof. Hank smiled. It was almost festive.

“
You have a nice garden up here, Charley.”

“
Thanks.”

“
You wouldn’t be growing any weed up here now, would you?” Johnson asked.

“
No sir, I pulled up all the weeds, but I don’t get very many way up here. Not like people do on the ground.”

“
I was thinking more of marijuana,” Johnson said.

Charley’s eyes grew wide. “Oh no, sir, that’s bad. Mr. Washington wanted me to grow that for him, he’s the super, but Papa said no, it’s bad, so I don’t grow it.”

“
Something happened in the alley tonight, Charley,” Hank said, thinking that Officer Johnson would probably have a word or two with Mr. Washington later on. “Did you see or hear anything?”

Charley lowered his head and nodded.

“
What did you see, Charley?”

“
A lot of men. They put up lights and started cleaning up the alley. There’s a lot of garbage and stuff down there. Somebody’s got to clean it all up.”

“
Those are people from the police department, like we are,” Hank said. “Someone died in the alley tonight and we’re trying to find out who killed him.”

“
Oh.”

“
Did you see who came here, Charley, and left the man in the alley?”

Charley nodded again.

“
Tell me what you saw.”

Charley glanced at Johnson, hesitating. The uniform seemed to be making him nervous.

“
I forgot to introduce us, Charley,” Hank said. “This is Officer Johnson, and my name’s Hank. Officer Johnson here was telling me when we were coming upstairs that he likes music. Do you like music, Charley?”

Charley nodded. “I got a tape player up here I listen to sometimes. I like Marvin Gaye.”

“
Hey, so do I,” Johnson said, playing along.

“
I like Wilson Pickett, too. I got his tape, you want to hear it?”

“
Maybe another time,” Hank said.

“
Okay.”

“
It would really help me out, and Officer Johnson, too, if you could tell us about what you saw earlier tonight before the police arrived.”

“
I saw two men and they was carrying another man.”

“
Tell us what you remember.”

“
They came in a car. I heard the car stop, but I didn’t get up to see because I was looking at the stars and I didn’t want to move. I like sitting in my chair looking at the stars. Papa taught me the names of some of the stars.”

“
What happened after you heard the car stop?”

“
I heard the car thump. Two times, then another thump later. Then I heard their voices.”

“
What did they say?”

Charley brought his gaze down from the stars and looked at Hank. “I dunno, it was funny talk.”

“
Funny talk?”

“
Yeah,” Charley said, “not like the way we talk. They didn’t look like us. Not black like us,” he glanced at Johnson, “and not white like you. They was China men.”

“
You saw them? You know what they look like?”

Charley shrugged. “I just saw they was China men. It was far away and it was only when they was near the sidewalk and the street light was shining on them I could see them. I went over and looked down when I heard their voices because I wanted to know who was talking funny. I never heard that kind of talk around here before.”

“
Show us where you were standing,” Hank suggested.

Charley led the way to the edge of the roof. Hank looked down into the alley and saw that ShonDale’s transportation had arrived and the body was in the process of being taken away. Karen stood at the end of the alley talking to Byrne.

“
What did the men do, Charley?”

Charley stood beside him and pointed. “They carried the man into the alley and put him down there. One man had a plastic bag with stuff in it. He took stuff out of the bag and put it on the ground. Then they left.”

“
Which way did they go, Charley?”

He pointed up the street past the abandoned building on the other side of the alley.

“
Did you hear the car again?”

“
No, I just heard them walk away. But I did hear a car a little later.”

Someone coming to pick up the two men, Hank thought. “Do you know what time it was?”

Charley shook his head. “I don’t know how to tell time. Papa tells me when it’s time to do stuff.”

“
That’s all right.” It wasn’t much, but it was something. They had an eyewitness who confirmed that the body was dumped. Two Asian men left the body, the gun, the drug packet and the syringe. It was a start.

“
Anything else, Charley?”

He thought about it for a moment. “Nothing else happened until the policemen came.” He looked at Johnson, standing on the other side of him. “Was that you?”

Johnson nodded.

“
I thought it was you. I saw you.”

“
I didn’t see you, though.”

Charley smiled. “I know. Nobody sees me if I don’t want them to.”

“
Do you see the woman standing on the sidewalk?” Hank asked, pointing.

“
Yeah.”

“
Her name’s Detective Stainer. I’m helping her try to catch the men who did this. Do you think you could come downstairs with me and tell her what you saw, just like you told me and Officer Johnson?”

“
I don’t know,” Charley said, taking a few hesitant steps backward.

“
She’s very nice,” Hank lied, “and you’d be a really big help to her. It’s wrong to kill someone. She wants to find the men who did this and punish them.”

“
Do I have to?”

“
Would you like your father to come down with you? Would that help?”

“
Papa? Is he in trouble, too?”

“
No, Charley,” Hank said, “he’s not in trouble, and neither are you.”

“
Police is here,” Charley said, looking at Johnson’s uniform. “Police want me to go with them. That’s trouble.”

“
Well, I’m the police too, Charley, and I’m telling you you’re not in trouble. I didn’t show you my badge.” Hank unclipped his badge from his belt and held it up. “See? Officer Johnson has his on his shirt, and I keep mine on my belt, on this leather holder.”

Charley took a hesitant step closer to stare at the badge.

Hank held out the badge. “Let’s take it down and show it to your papa. You can carry it, if you like. Then we’ll go down and talk to Detective Stainer.”

Charley took Hank’s badge. He looked it all over, gently running the tips of his fingers over the surface. “Gold.”

“
Yes, it is.”

Charley looked at Johnson. “Yours ain’t gold.”

Johnson chuckled. “No, it’s silver, but some day I’ll have me a gold one like that.”

Charley looked at Hank. “I’m gonna show it to Papa.”

“
If you promise to talk to Detective Stainer.”

“
Okay.”

They walked back under the arbor and through the door into the stairwell, Hank leading the way, Charley behind him and Johnson bringing up the rear. Suddenly Hank remembered the dream he’d been dreaming when Karen’s phone call woke him up, a dream of a woman who grew flowers on the roof of her apartment building. In his mind the woman was Meredith Collier, he realized. Here he was now in a rooftop garden, surrounded by plants, thinking about Meredith Collier.

What was that called again? Meaningful coincidence? Synchronicity?

They went down to the sixth floor and knocked on the door of the Jenkins apartment. Randolph Jenkins had dressed in a clean white shirt, brown trousers and brown oxfords. Hank explained that he wanted Charley to go downstairs to give his story to the investigating detective. Jenkins got his keys from a bowl on a shelf inside the door and stepped out into the hall, locking his apartment door behind him.