Read Online Butchers Hill by Laura Lippman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Lippman
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with me? I
ain' done nothing and Lavon ain't done nothing. Why
you got to be hassling us all the time?"
"I'm a private
investigator , not a cop." Tess found
the license at last and thrust it at Keisha. "All I want is
to ask you a few questions about your son, Donnie Moore."
The woman's face seemed to go dead
at the mention of Donnie's name. She sucked on her lower lip,
looking at Tess's license.
"That was a long time
ago," she said softly. "Why you coming around
now?"
"Can we talk inside?
It's awfully warm out here in the sun."
But the rowhouse was far hotter, stifling
and close. In the small front room, two small children slept on two old
sofas, which had been set up like church pews, facing the altar of a
brass wall unit with a television set and VCR. The children looked
tired in their sleep, if such a thing was possible.
"My nephews," Keisha
said, stopping for a second to look at them. "They was up
late last night."
"They belong to your sister, the
one I met in your apartment?"
"Tonya told you how to find me?
She never did have good sense. No, these are my brother's
children. I'm watching them for my sister-in-law while
she's at DSS, trying to straighten out her food stamps.
They's trying to cut her off because of one of those new
rules, but she don't even know which one she broke."
"Where's your
brother?"
"Gone," Keisha said, and
something in her voice kept Tess from asking for more details.
Somewhere above them, a baby began to cry.
Keisha ran upstairs, her cloth bedroom slippers slapping on the
uncarpeted stairs, and returned a few minutes later with a fat,
copper-colored baby in a diaper. She had taken the time to throw a
plaid cotton shirt over her bra, although she hadn't bothered
to button it.
"She needs a change,"
she said, leading Tess into the middle room. This would have been the
formal dining room when the house was built, but now it was empty,
except for an old-fashioned deep freezer against one wall. Keisha used
this as a changing table and while her movements were lovingly
efficient and competent, it made Tess nervous to see the baby lolling
on the slick, hard surface.
"She's
pretty," she said tentatively, not sure if that was the
appropriate word. More puckish, really, making a fish mouth that
reminded Tess of Harpo Marx, but what mother wanted to hear that?
"You got any?"
"Uh-uh," Tess said
politely, trying to project the kind of longing she knew mothers
expected of nonmothers. She didn't have much of a baby jones.
Still, there was something appealing about this chubby girl, a
life-of-the-party light in her eyes, a way of churning her arms and
legs as if ready to dance.
"This is Laylah," Keisha
said, making the baby wave a tiny hand at Tess.
"Lay-lay-lay-lah," Tess
sang a little riff to the baby, then felt embarrassed. "I
guess people do that all the time."
Keisha looked puzzled.
"There's a song with my baby's name?
Isn't that something? I'd sure like to hear that
sometime."
"Yeah, Derek and the
Dominoes." Keisha looked blank. "You know, Eric
Clapton."
"Oh yeah, that guitar player. The
one whose little boy fell out the window. The one who did the song with
Baby-face."
Funny, the different contexts people brought
to the world. Then again, Tess hadn't known Toni Braxton was
from Severna Park. "How old are you, if I may ask?"
"Just turned thirty-one this past
April."
"So when you had Donnie you
were"—Tess stopped, in part to do the math, in part
because the math made her feel rude.
"Fifteen. Yes'm. But
what do you want to know about Donnie for? Sure was a long time
ago."
"I'm trying to find the
other children who were with him at the Nelsons', and I
thought you might know where they were."
"Why? I mean, why do you want to
find them?"
"Because someone asked me
to." That sounded a little sinister, so she added,
"There may be some money coming to them, because of what
happened."
"Money for them, but not for
Donnie?"
"No, I'm afraid
not." She didn't owe Keisha any
ain' done nothing and Lavon ain't done nothing. Why
you got to be hassling us all the time?"
"I'm a private
investigator , not a cop." Tess found
the license at last and thrust it at Keisha. "All I want is
to ask you a few questions about your son, Donnie Moore."
The woman's face seemed to go dead
at the mention of Donnie's name. She sucked on her lower lip,
looking at Tess's license.
"That was a long time
ago," she said softly. "Why you coming around
now?"
"Can we talk inside?
It's awfully warm out here in the sun."
But the rowhouse was far hotter, stifling
and close. In the small front room, two small children slept on two old
sofas, which had been set up like church pews, facing the altar of a
brass wall unit with a television set and VCR. The children looked
tired in their sleep, if such a thing was possible.
"My nephews," Keisha
said, stopping for a second to look at them. "They was up
late last night."
"They belong to your sister, the
one I met in your apartment?"
"Tonya told you how to find me?
She never did have good sense. No, these are my brother's
children. I'm watching them for my sister-in-law while
she's at DSS, trying to straighten out her food stamps.
They's trying to cut her off because of one of those new
rules, but she don't even know which one she broke."
"Where's your
brother?"
"Gone," Keisha said, and
something in her voice kept Tess from asking for more details.
Somewhere above them, a baby began to cry.
Keisha ran upstairs, her cloth bedroom slippers slapping on the
uncarpeted stairs, and returned a few minutes later with a fat,
copper-colored baby in a diaper. She had taken the time to throw a
plaid cotton shirt over her bra, although she hadn't bothered
to button it.
"She needs a change,"
she said, leading Tess into the middle room. This would have been the
formal dining room when the house was built, but now it was empty,
except for an old-fashioned deep freezer against one wall. Keisha used
this as a changing table and while her movements were lovingly
efficient and competent, it made Tess nervous to see the baby lolling
on the slick, hard surface.
"She's
pretty," she said tentatively, not sure if that was the
appropriate word. More puckish, really, making a fish mouth that
reminded Tess of Harpo Marx, but what mother wanted to hear that?
"You got any?"
"Uh-uh," Tess said
politely, trying to project the kind of longing she knew mothers
expected of nonmothers. She didn't have much of a baby jones.
Still, there was something appealing about this chubby girl, a
life-of-the-party light in her eyes, a way of churning her arms and
legs as if ready to dance.
"This is Laylah," Keisha
said, making the baby wave a tiny hand at Tess.
"Lay-lay-lay-lah," Tess
sang a little riff to the baby, then felt embarrassed. "I
guess people do that all the time."
Keisha looked puzzled.
"There's a song with my baby's name?
Isn't that something? I'd sure like to hear that
sometime."
"Yeah, Derek and the
Dominoes." Keisha looked blank. "You know, Eric
Clapton."
"Oh yeah, that guitar player. The
one whose little boy fell out the window. The one who did the song with
Baby-face."
Funny, the different contexts people brought
to the world. Then again, Tess hadn't known Toni Braxton was
from Severna Park. "How old are you, if I may ask?"
"Just turned thirty-one this past
April."
"So when you had Donnie you
were"—Tess stopped, in part to do the math, in part
because the math made her feel rude.
"Fifteen. Yes'm. But
what do you want to know about Donnie for? Sure was a long time
ago."
"I'm trying to find the
other children who were with him at the Nelsons', and I
thought you might know where they were."
"Why? I mean, why do you want to
find them?"
"Because someone asked me
to." That sounded a little sinister, so she added,
"There may be some money coming to them, because of what
happened."
"Money for them, but not for
Donnie?"
"No, I'm afraid
not." She didn't owe Keisha any
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