Genie’s unmarked police sedan. “Don’t forget to give your grandson another dollar-twenty-five.”
“You counted?”
“You were too angry with those two jerks to do it yourself.”
Genie sighed and took out her coin purse. “He’ll be going to Harvard at this rate.”
CHAPTER TEN
Nicole’s last known address was only six blocks from where she’d been murdered.
The neighborhood was what Lucy would classify as a slum. One of the worst in DC, heavily segregated. While most neighborhoods were mixed, this one was one hundred percent black. Lucy definitely stood out, and not in a good way.
It seemed areas like this were worse in the summer, when the humidity made the overflowing Dumpsters smell ten times worse; when the heat shimmered off the sidewalks and streets; when the people slumped shirtless in any shade they could find from the sweltering sun.
Maybe because of the heat, no one bothered them as they walked from Genie’s unmarked but obvious police sedan to the doorway of a four-story apartment building that dominated the short block. The window AC units made the entire building groan.
Genie buzzed the manager first, but the buzzer was broken and there was meager security on the main door. Genie opened it with a shove and they knocked on the first door, 1A, with
AN G R
in broken letters underneath. “Hope that’s not foreshadowing his mood,” Lucy said, gesturing toward the door. Behind the door a television roared with canned laughter.
“I really hate this neighborhood,” Genie muttered. “I pull a case here at least twice a week.”
The manager was a rotund black woman in her sixties. She was dressed in a blinding bright pink muumuu with green flowers.
“What do the cops want with who today?” she asked.
Genie showed the manager Nicole’s driver’s license photo. “Nicole Bellows, four-B.”
“Don’t live here.”
She started to close the door.
“But she used to,” Genie said.
The woman stepped heavily into the hall and shut the door behind her, though Lucy could still hear the laugh track of a mindless sitcom. “Let’s see her.”
Genie showed the manager the photo. The woman put on her glasses and stared. “She’s one of the hookers. Moved out back before Thanksgiving. Found herself a sugar daddy, I suppose.”
“Do you know who?”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell, right?” She laughed at her own joke. “All I know is she caught up on her back rent and gave me two weeks. That covered her room through Halloween, I think. I haven’t seen her since.”
“How long did she live here?”
She shrugged. “Maybe a year. Little longer.” She glared at them. “She wasn’t a bad girl, you know. Never brought trouble here. No drugs. I catch one of my tenants with drugs, they don’t get no second chance. Drugs are killing my people, I don’t tolerate that garbage.”
“Nicole wasn’t a problem, then,” Genie said.
“Nope. Didn’t think she’d stay as long as she did.”
“Did she have any friends in the building?”
“Dunno. But I remember one friend, came by a couple times. I told her once, don’t come here at night, it wasn’t safe for a rich white girl like her.”
Lucy’s interest was piqued. “Do you remember her name?”
“Never introduced. She didn’t belong here. I think she was in Nicole’s line of work, if you know what I mean.”
“Are any of Nicole’s friends still in the building?”
“Four-C. Cora Fox. Been here for years. Nosy bitch, too.”
“Is she here now, or are we wasting our time walking up four flights?”
“She’s here, but you won’t find her upstairs. Coolest place in the building is the basement. I put in some fans, bring in some blocks of ice.”
Lucy’s surprise must have showed on her face.
The manager said, “You wouldn’t understand, chica .”
Genie grinned. “Nice meeting you—?”
“Meggie. Meggie Prince.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Lucy said, not understanding what Genie found humorous. She
“You counted?”
“You were too angry with those two jerks to do it yourself.”
Genie sighed and took out her coin purse. “He’ll be going to Harvard at this rate.”
CHAPTER TEN
Nicole’s last known address was only six blocks from where she’d been murdered.
The neighborhood was what Lucy would classify as a slum. One of the worst in DC, heavily segregated. While most neighborhoods were mixed, this one was one hundred percent black. Lucy definitely stood out, and not in a good way.
It seemed areas like this were worse in the summer, when the humidity made the overflowing Dumpsters smell ten times worse; when the heat shimmered off the sidewalks and streets; when the people slumped shirtless in any shade they could find from the sweltering sun.
Maybe because of the heat, no one bothered them as they walked from Genie’s unmarked but obvious police sedan to the doorway of a four-story apartment building that dominated the short block. The window AC units made the entire building groan.
Genie buzzed the manager first, but the buzzer was broken and there was meager security on the main door. Genie opened it with a shove and they knocked on the first door, 1A, with
AN G R
in broken letters underneath. “Hope that’s not foreshadowing his mood,” Lucy said, gesturing toward the door. Behind the door a television roared with canned laughter.
“I really hate this neighborhood,” Genie muttered. “I pull a case here at least twice a week.”
The manager was a rotund black woman in her sixties. She was dressed in a blinding bright pink muumuu with green flowers.
“What do the cops want with who today?” she asked.
Genie showed the manager Nicole’s driver’s license photo. “Nicole Bellows, four-B.”
“Don’t live here.”
She started to close the door.
“But she used to,” Genie said.
The woman stepped heavily into the hall and shut the door behind her, though Lucy could still hear the laugh track of a mindless sitcom. “Let’s see her.”
Genie showed the manager the photo. The woman put on her glasses and stared. “She’s one of the hookers. Moved out back before Thanksgiving. Found herself a sugar daddy, I suppose.”
“Do you know who?”
“Don’t ask, don’t tell, right?” She laughed at her own joke. “All I know is she caught up on her back rent and gave me two weeks. That covered her room through Halloween, I think. I haven’t seen her since.”
“How long did she live here?”
She shrugged. “Maybe a year. Little longer.” She glared at them. “She wasn’t a bad girl, you know. Never brought trouble here. No drugs. I catch one of my tenants with drugs, they don’t get no second chance. Drugs are killing my people, I don’t tolerate that garbage.”
“Nicole wasn’t a problem, then,” Genie said.
“Nope. Didn’t think she’d stay as long as she did.”
“Did she have any friends in the building?”
“Dunno. But I remember one friend, came by a couple times. I told her once, don’t come here at night, it wasn’t safe for a rich white girl like her.”
Lucy’s interest was piqued. “Do you remember her name?”
“Never introduced. She didn’t belong here. I think she was in Nicole’s line of work, if you know what I mean.”
“Are any of Nicole’s friends still in the building?”
“Four-C. Cora Fox. Been here for years. Nosy bitch, too.”
“Is she here now, or are we wasting our time walking up four flights?”
“She’s here, but you won’t find her upstairs. Coolest place in the building is the basement. I put in some fans, bring in some blocks of ice.”
Lucy’s surprise must have showed on her face.
The manager said, “You wouldn’t understand, chica .”
Genie grinned. “Nice meeting you—?”
“Meggie. Meggie Prince.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Lucy said, not understanding what Genie found humorous. She
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