Blossom - Andrew H. Vachss [43]
"Understood, Your Honor."
"Defendant is discharged. Same conditions of bail. Next case, please."
The prosecutor was busy with some papers on his desk. Bostick went over to the clerk to sign Lloyd out as the kid went to stand with his family. The reporter walked by the defense table, gave me an interested glance, shrugged his shoulders when I didn't react, and went to file his story.
We came down the courthouse steps in two groups. Rebecca between Virgil and Lloyd, me next to Bostick. Detective Sherwood was leaning against the wall. He rolled his thick shoulders to push himself toward us. Virgil caught the movement, kept walking toward the car. Sherwood stepped in front of us.
"Mr. Bostick, I'd like to talk to your…investigator. That okay with you?"
Bostick turned to me. "Sure," I said.
"Drop down to the precinct anytime," Sherwood said.
"Would you do me a favor first?"
"What?"
"A friend of mine, Detective McGowan. NYPD, Runaway Squad. I'll give you the number. Could you give him a call, kind of tell him what's going on out here?"
"Why would I want to do that?"
"Save you some time, okay? You want to talk to me, you want to know who you're talking to."
His eyes measured me. "Give me the number," he said.
58
I STAYED AT Virgil's house only long enough for Lloyd to tell us he never got to use any of the stuff we taught him. He was sitting at the kitchen table, facing me and Virgil while Rebecca bustled around in the kitchen. Virginia and Junior were all over Lloyd, glad to see him—afraid he was going to go away again. Rebecca took them into the back yard to play.
"You remember that guy I told you about? Hightower? Well, as soon as I got out of that first–day isolation room they put you in, I went into the main room. Where the TV is. I was watching, like you told me. Watching their eyes. I was ready. This one black kid, I had him all picked out. Then Hightower walks in, comes right up to me. I was thinking, damn! I didn't want to start off with this boy, you know? But he comes over to me, says, 'Homeboy! When d'you raise, man?' Like we were pals forever. He sits next to me, runs down the whole place. Like which counselor…I mean, which guard you can get over on. The other guys, they see this, they don't know if Hightower's staking me out for himself or what. He puts his pack of smokes on the bench between us. I remembered what you said about not taking nothing. He leans over, whispers to me, says we got the same friends, don't worry. He had a visit. He described you, Burke. I mean, perfect. Like he knew you."
I nodded. Hightower knew me. Better than Lloyd did.
"Anyway, later, at lunch, this other boy, big white kid, one of those skinheads, he reaches over, takes the cake right off my tray. I start across the table at him when I hear Hightower whisper, 'Chill, Lloyd. The Man!' and I see one of the guards coming down the aisle. The white boy smiles at me. Then Hightower tells him he wants to settle this later, come to the shower room after gym. Bring his shit. The white boy says this ain't Hightower's beef. Hightower says anyone messes with me, they got him to deal with. I reach over, take my cake back off the white boy's tray. Then I help myself to his piece too. Nobody says nothing. I did it right, Virgil?"
Virgil's smile was sad. "Like you been doin' it all your life, son."
The kids came back inside. Virginia sat down at the piano. Started pounding out the jangle–line of some country–blues song. Like her father. Junior sat next to his sister, his little hand on her shoulder. Rebecca watched over them. Virgil opened a beer for Lloyd. The kid left it untouched in front of him, knowing it was Virgil's way of telling his family Lloyd was a man now. Sacramental wine, not for drinking.
I knew it was time for me to go.
59
IT WAS LATE afternoon when I got back to the motel. Night work coming up—I lay