Read Online All the Lucky Ones Are Dead by Gar Anthony Haywood - Free Book Online

had ran from four in the afternoon that Saturday to eight in the evening. Why they chose that particular tape, I couldn’t tell you.”
    Again, this was something else that didn’t add up. If the Digga had been killed only thirty minutes shy of midnight that Saturday, and Frick and his partner only took one surveillance tape—it should have been the one relevant to that specific time frame. None of the others, recorded either before or after the Digga died, would be capable by itself of proving who had or had not been in the room with him when he was shot.
    â€œWhen did you say you got the tape back?”
    â€œA few days after they took it. Two or three, tops.”
    â€œAnd was it returned to you personally, or …”
    â€œIt was returned to Ray. Ray went down to the station when they were done with it and brought it back here himself. He gave it to me and I refiled it, after checking it over to make sure it was the right tape, of course.”
    â€œYou viewed it?”
    â€œYes. Not in its entirety, naturally, but I scanned through it. Four hours of what was mostly an empty hallway, I certainly wasn’t going to look at the whole thing in real time.” Zemic eyed Gunner suspiciously, said, “I don’t know where all of this is leading, Mr. Gunner, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to get back to my office now. I trust I’ve answered all your questions?”
    â€œAll but one.” Zemic looked annoyed, having already taken one step toward the elevators. “I’d still like to have that talk with Mr. Crumley, if I could. Would it be possible to get his home number from you?”
    â€œI’ve got a better idea. I’ll take yours, and have him call you .”
    Gunner smiled good-naturedly, said, “You could do it that way, sure. But my way would look more like cooperation on your part, if anybody were to ask me later how helpful the Westmore’s been to my investigation. Don’t you think?”
    Zemic visibly stiffened, stung by the veiled threat. Carlton Elbridge’s death on the premises had already brought Zemic’s beloved hotel all the negative publicity it could ever use; if stories were to start circulating now that the Westmore’s staff was impeding Gunner’s investigation into the rapper’s alleged suicide, rumors that the hotel was engaged in a cover-up of some kind wouldn’t be far behind.
    â€œFollow me down to my office, I’ll give you Ray’s number there,” the security man said.
    Biting down hard on every word.
    Gunner used a pay phone in the lobby to make three calls before leaving the Westmore. His first one went out to Kevin Frick, who wasn’t at his desk at the BHPD; Gunner left a message on the cop’s voice mail for him to call. Next, Gunner tried Ray Crumley, but the security man too was out; Gunner left the same message he’d left with Frick on Crumley’s answering machine. Finally, the investigator checked in with his unofficial secretary, Mickey Moore, looking for messages of his own.
    â€œIt’s about damn time you called,” the barber said immediately, clearly in a panic.
    â€œWhy? What’s up?”
    â€œYou got the biggest brother I ever seen waitin’ for you over here, that’s what. Damn near blotted out the sun when he walked through the door.”
    â€œHe give you his name?”
    â€œHe says his name is Jolly. Jolly Mokes.”
    â€œJolly Mokes?”
    It was a name Gunner had nearly forgotten. The last time he had seen William “Jolly” Mokes was on television, during a news report of the giant black man’s arrest for the murder of his wife, Grace. He had strangled his pretty little woman to death in a drunken, jealous rage the day before, and would soon offer the police a full confession to the crime. When they shipped him off to prison shortly thereafter, Gunner thought he’d never see his old Vietnam War