âTalk to friendsâ as another action item, then stared at Chanitaâs profile. Which of these things had attracted the monster? âLetâs look at our suspects so far.â Then, I made a list.
1. Ontrel
2. the Mexican Dude in Apt 1
3. Mr. Bishop at school
4. Regina Drummondâs boyfriends
5. 18 th Street
âKnowing that she died from atropine poisoning,â I said, âIâm close to crossing off the gang-bangers. But I wonât. Not yet. And Iâll run the pedos in the area, see whoâs good for this.â
Colin would continue to handle the murder book and join me in interviewing the entire city of Los Angeles.
âIâll work with the Gang Unit on those hijos de putas, â Luke said. âSomebody caught up in that sweep last week probably wanna make a deal by now.â
âAnd handle Nitaâs phone, too.â I turned to Pepe. âI donât know if we need to worry much about family finances, so comb through any tips that come in and talk to her friends.â And to Lieutenant Rodriguez: âMaybe we can get press coverage on this. Iâll askââ
âDonât know if thatâs a good idea,â he said, eyes narrowed.
I bristled. âSheâll be fine.â
âLouâ¦â
âSyâs fine,â I said, âand we need the community involved.â
Syeeda had also grown up in the Jungleâher dad worked with my dad, both driving city buses. And, like me, she and her brother and sister, Kenny and Eva, had made it out. She was now editor in chief of OurTimes, a Times supplement that addressed issues facing blacks living in the âurbanâ areas left ragged by the Rodney Kingâverdict riots and the Rampart-LAPD scandal. Published twice a week and having a circulation of 55,000, OurTimes usually provided nothing hard-hitting or controversial. Only articles on church renovations, police station open houses, and high school sports, all drowned in a pond of ads for fish markets and grocery stores. Sometimes, an article that fulfilled the paperâs original mission found its way in, but not often. Because OurTimes didnât do investigative reporting, and it sure as hell didnât win any Pulitzers.
And Syeeda hated that.
This article about Chanita Lords, though, would serve a purpose for us both.
After the meeting ended, Lieutenant Rodriguez came to stand with me at the whiteboard. âSolving this will be a feather in my cap. And your promotion to Detective Sergeant .â
I crossed my arms as something pinged behind my eyes.
He chuckled and shook his head. âI knowâIâve said that too many times.â
I placed the marker in the tray without comment. Black women and LAPD promotions went together like chips and vomit.
âIâll give you whatever you need,â he said. âIâll call in every favor I got.â He shoved his hands in his pockets, then nodded at the board. âWhen you crack this, when you stop this son of the devil ⦠Theyâll have to pay attention. Youâll solve it and get another stripe.â
I stared at the âmonsterâ list, at all the men in Chanitaâs life.
âWhat are you thinking?â my boss asked.
A new headache crackled on one side of my face. âEven though I know thereâs no such thing as total closure, I just want them to have it. For her people not to know ⦠I donât want that for them.â
My family and friends had scattered Toriâs ashes months ago, yet I still expected to see her alive. Is that her head in the grocery store? Is that her perfume? My eyes never rested as I scanned faces in the crowds. That face, of course, was never hers. And then, Iâd remember: she canât be Tori.
Toriâs gone.
And Iâd move on ⦠Until the next time. At a farmersâ market, at the movie theater or the grocery store. Still scanning faces. Still expecting
Maggie Brendan
Barbara O'Connor
Jan Washburn
Terri Blackstock
Norah Simone
Barry Kemp
G.P. Taylor
Alan Cumyn
Linda Barnes
Lisa Jackson