Businessof some kind. Maybe an MBA eventually, if I can get a scholarship.” He gestured for them to take a seat on the sofa. “Now how can I help you?” Ella got right to it. “How long had you known Officer Franklin?”
“We met two years ago last summer—July, I guess.”
“How did you two meet?”
“He was on patrol, busting kids who were setting off illegal fireworks, bottle rockets and stuff. It was duringthat long drought. I’d wandered onto the turf of a rival gang looking for a friend of mine, and nearly got killed when they jumped me. Officer Franklin came flying out of his unit with nothing more than a nightstick and beat back about five guys. Then he loaded me up and took me to the hospital. I bled all over his car seat. If it hadn’t been for him, I probably wouldn’t be here today. I’ve got thescars to prove it.”
“And you became friends after that?”
“We weren’t friends, really. I just owed him big-time, so I tried to pay him back the only way I could.”
“How’s that?”
“If something was brewing around here, I’d let him know about it.”
“Nothing more than that?”
“Not lately. I’ve heard about a couple of cars being stolen recently, but I have no idea who’s behind that. The only thingI’m positive about is that it’s not gang-related. I would have known if any of the kids were involved.”
“What gang are you in?”
“The Many Devils, but I’m not active. If there was such a thing as quitting, I would have. As it is, I just see the guys every once in a while, but go my own way now.”
“And they accept that?” Ella asked skeptically.
“They don’t hassle me. Most of them are youngerthan me anyway, and I’m bigger than they are. I also know a lot people who owe me favors and would back me up.”
Ella walked to an attractive watercolor painting of a stallion hung on the wall. It was done in a style especially popular in the sixties and seventies—a stylized design using bright blues and yellows and geometric shapes reminiscent of those found on Navajo rugs. “I tried doing somethinglike this in high school, but just don’t have the talent. Are you an artist?”
“No. That’s the only thing my old man left behind when he walked out. He took off when I was eight or nine, and I haven’t seen him since.”
Ella nodded, suspecting now that one of the reasons Jason had befriended this boy was because he could easily identify with him. “Is there anything you can tell us about OfficerFranklin that might help us find his killer?”
Albert paused, mulling her question over in his mind. “You probably already know this, but about two weeks ago he told me that someone had tried to break off the lock on the rear door of that old garage his mom owned. Sine he couldn’t believe that anyone would want the old junk in there, he thought it might have been an initiation rite for a gang.But I set him straight.”
“You don’t think it was an initiation?”
“No way. For one, nobody trying to get ranked into a gang would have backed out. He would have broken in, one way or another, even if he had to break a window or ram it with a stolen car. To fail would have made him look like a wuss in front of everyone, and he’d probably have gotten the crap beat out of him. Not that he couldhave avoided that anyway. Most of the ranking around here involves taking on three or four of their own guys and staying on your feet.”
“So what’s your theory?” Ella asked.
“I’ve thought about that a lot because I wanted to help him. Obviously, someone wanted something that was stored in there, maybe some family heirloom, or whatever, that meant something to them, but it took time for that personto build up his courage because he wasn’t really a thief. In other words, we’re talking amateur night.”
“That’s a plausible theory.” Ella stood up. “Thanks for your time.”
As they went back to the car, Ella remained quiet and Justine didn’t
“We met two years ago last summer—July, I guess.”
“How did you two meet?”
“He was on patrol, busting kids who were setting off illegal fireworks, bottle rockets and stuff. It was duringthat long drought. I’d wandered onto the turf of a rival gang looking for a friend of mine, and nearly got killed when they jumped me. Officer Franklin came flying out of his unit with nothing more than a nightstick and beat back about five guys. Then he loaded me up and took me to the hospital. I bled all over his car seat. If it hadn’t been for him, I probably wouldn’t be here today. I’ve got thescars to prove it.”
“And you became friends after that?”
“We weren’t friends, really. I just owed him big-time, so I tried to pay him back the only way I could.”
“How’s that?”
“If something was brewing around here, I’d let him know about it.”
“Nothing more than that?”
“Not lately. I’ve heard about a couple of cars being stolen recently, but I have no idea who’s behind that. The only thingI’m positive about is that it’s not gang-related. I would have known if any of the kids were involved.”
“What gang are you in?”
“The Many Devils, but I’m not active. If there was such a thing as quitting, I would have. As it is, I just see the guys every once in a while, but go my own way now.”
“And they accept that?” Ella asked skeptically.
“They don’t hassle me. Most of them are youngerthan me anyway, and I’m bigger than they are. I also know a lot people who owe me favors and would back me up.”
Ella walked to an attractive watercolor painting of a stallion hung on the wall. It was done in a style especially popular in the sixties and seventies—a stylized design using bright blues and yellows and geometric shapes reminiscent of those found on Navajo rugs. “I tried doing somethinglike this in high school, but just don’t have the talent. Are you an artist?”
“No. That’s the only thing my old man left behind when he walked out. He took off when I was eight or nine, and I haven’t seen him since.”
Ella nodded, suspecting now that one of the reasons Jason had befriended this boy was because he could easily identify with him. “Is there anything you can tell us about OfficerFranklin that might help us find his killer?”
Albert paused, mulling her question over in his mind. “You probably already know this, but about two weeks ago he told me that someone had tried to break off the lock on the rear door of that old garage his mom owned. Sine he couldn’t believe that anyone would want the old junk in there, he thought it might have been an initiation rite for a gang.But I set him straight.”
“You don’t think it was an initiation?”
“No way. For one, nobody trying to get ranked into a gang would have backed out. He would have broken in, one way or another, even if he had to break a window or ram it with a stolen car. To fail would have made him look like a wuss in front of everyone, and he’d probably have gotten the crap beat out of him. Not that he couldhave avoided that anyway. Most of the ranking around here involves taking on three or four of their own guys and staying on your feet.”
“So what’s your theory?” Ella asked.
“I’ve thought about that a lot because I wanted to help him. Obviously, someone wanted something that was stored in there, maybe some family heirloom, or whatever, that meant something to them, but it took time for that personto build up his courage because he wasn’t really a thief. In other words, we’re talking amateur night.”
“That’s a plausible theory.” Ella stood up. “Thanks for your time.”
As they went back to the car, Ella remained quiet and Justine didn’t
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