Afraid of the Dark - James Grippando [86]
“I know you hate coming around here,” said Jack. “But I didn’t know what to think when Mays called and said he had to meet me at McKenna’s grave. Every time I start to see Mays as a potential ally, he says something that makes me think he’s nothing but trouble.”
“You want me to kick his ass?”
“No,” said Jack, groaning. “Chuck Mays thinks he’s the smartest person in the world, which means I don’t want it to come down to my word against his if there’s ever a dispute about what was said between us.”
“So you want me to threaten to kick his ass.”
“No. Just keep your mouth shut and listen. Believe it or not, life doesn’t always come down to kicking somebody’s ass.”
Theo glanced at the school’s graffiti-covered entrance, shook his head, and chuckled. “Dude, you wouldn’t have lasted five minutes at Tucker Elementary.”
It was late Sunday afternoon, but the cemetery was open to the public until sundown. They climbed out of the car and walked to the west entrance on Charles Street. The sidewalk was dimpled and rutted with symbols that gangs had etched into eternity when the cement had been poured twenty years ago. Jack even found one from the Grove Lords—Theo’s old partners in street crime. The rusted iron gate creaked as it opened, and Jack spotted Chuck Mays and Vince Paulo standing beneath the two large oak trees that Mays had described to Jack in his directions. Jack led, and Theo followed. The sun was low enough in the sky to cast long shadows, and they’d passed just two rows of old tombs when Theo broke into his singing voice, quietly but predictably invoking the memory of Michael Jackson:
“It’s close to midnight, something something, something dark . . .”
Theo’s recollection of the lyrics expired quickly, but he was still humming the tune as they reached McKenna’s grave. Jack silenced him with a glare and introduced Theo to Mays and Paulo as his “investigator.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Theo had worn many hats throughout their friendship—all of them size XXL.
“Sorry about your friend Neil,” said Vince.
“Ditto,” said Mays.
It was already feeling awkward, standing around McKenna’s tomb in an old Bahamian cemetery, talking about Neil in the past tense.
“I appreciate that,” said Jack.
“It changes things, doesn’t it,” said Mays, “having skin in the game?”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” said Jack.
Mays glanced at Theo, gestured toward the bench beneath the oak tree, and said, “Have a seat, big guy.” He wasn’t being polite. Theo was the tallest man in the group, and Mays clearly wasn’t used to looking up at anyone.
“I’m good,” said Theo.
Jack said, “What is it that you wanted to show me, Chuck?”
“You see where you’re standing?” asked Mays.
Jack looked around, orienting himself. Family plots marked GUILFORD and SANDS were directly behind him. His left foot was practically touching McKenna’s tomb. “What about it?” said Jack.
Mays’ expression turned very serious. “This morning when I came here, I saw Shada kneeling in that exact spot.”
Jack glanced at the plaque beside McKenna’s grave: IN MEMORY OF SHADA MAYS, it read. “You’re one strange guy, Chuck. Let’s go, Theo.”
Mays grabbed Jack by the arm and said, “I saw her.”
“Yeah, and I once had a client who looked down at his grilled cheese sandwich and swore he saw the Virgin Mary. Now let go of my arm.”
“This is not a joke.”
Theo grabbed Mays, his huge hand making Mays’ considerable forearms seem slight. “Let go,” said Theo.
Mays released, and so did Theo, but the tension hung in the air between them. It was palpable, no gift of sight required.
“Chuck is telling the truth,” said Vince.
Jack still had doubts, but if Vince was vouching for his friend, Jack owed them the courtesy of an ear. “Did you talk to her?” asked Jack.
“No,” said Mays. “She ran as soon as I spotted her.”
“How close did you get?”
“Twenty yards.”
“Show me an eyewitness who was standing twenty yards away, and I’ll show you a dozen first-year law students who could rip him to shreds.”
“I know it was her,” said Mays.
“How can you be sure?