never give me or Simi one day of disappointment.”
Bayonne shoved his chair back. Jim shifted his weight, ready to respond if Bayonne felt jumpy. The man caught his eye. Jim gave his best “not here, not now” glare. Bayonne stared back a challenge, but Jim held his gaze. Finally Bayonne looked away.
“Vester, I’ve got some rough questions to ask,” Micki said. “You up to this?”
“Now’s as good as ever.”
“Did Benji talk about any trouble recently? Maybe at school? Or at the community center? Did he give you any reason to believe someone might be angry with him?”
“Like I said. Everybody loved Banjo. Teachers, coaches. He would sit with the little ones down at Our Joint. That’s the name of the center…Our Joint. He’d go and sit with the kids from preschool and such. Show ’em their letters and colors. Play puzzles with them. You can ask anybody. They all love that boy.” His voiced cracked.
Micki shifted her attention to Bayonne, allowing Vester a moment to compose himself.
“How about you? There’s ten years’ difference between you and Benji. Sometimes a kid will tell his big brother stuff he wouldn’t tell his parents.”
Bayonne looked away. He said nothing, but Jim could see his anger still simmered.
“Were the two of you close?” Micki asked.
Bayonne’s jaw churned. His breathing was quick and shallow. It took a while for him to respond.
“He’s my blood.” Bayonne looked at Jim. “We talk. We joke. Be there for one another.”
“Two of them had a standing basketball game,” Vester added. “Every Tuesday and Saturday. Down at the park.”
“You don’t talk for me, old man.” Bayonne glared at his father. “They ask me a question, I’ma answer.” He turned back toward Jim. “No talk about any trouble. Like the old man say, everybody love Banjo.”
“How about those games?” Micki asked. “Two of you knew how to play. Anybody resent it? Can you think of someone who might have not taken kindly to losing a game of hoops to the Jackson brothers?”
“Nothin’ like that. Sometimes we play with Banjo’s group. I dumb my play, let the little ones win. Other time we play with my crew. Nobody show that boy favorites. Banjo wanna play with the big boys, they gonna school him. Banjo loved it. Made him better. Most times, though, it just Banjo and me on the court.”
Micki gave Jim a long look. He shrugged. There was nothing to be gained here.
Micki pushed herself up from her seat. “We’re going to find out who’s responsible for Benji’s death, Mr. Jackson.” She looked down the table as Vester struggled to stand. “If you or your son have any ideas, no matter how odd they might seem, about who or why, I want you to call me. Day or night. Either of you.”
Vester Jackson shook her hand and headed out the door. Micki walked out behind him. Jim waited by the wall until Bayonne Jackson stood.
“I’d like a word, Bayonne.”
Bayonne sauntered toward him. “It matter if I mind?”
“Not really. You got a lot of anger, Three Pop. Daddy issues are dripping off you like sweat. Your father’s going through a tough time. Can you cut him some slack?”
“You my buddy now?” Bayonne was six foot two, two hundred pounds of muscle. He threw his shoulders back and pulled himself tall. “Some kinda social worker?”
“You loved Banjo. Times like these, families can help one another.”
“You let me take care of mine.”
Jim pointed to a tattoo on Bayonne’s face. Two teardrops outlined in dark ink.
“That second one there looks fresh.”
Bayonne said nothing.
“I’m guessing the first one’s for your mom. Outlined. Mom died of natural causes. No reason for revenge. That one’s always going to remain an outline, isn’t it?”
“What you do, Mr. Detective? Watch some gangster movie? Maybe read yourself a handout?”
“But that second one. That’s new as dawn. You got ideas of filling it in? Maybe finding who killed your brother and taking
Bayonne shoved his chair back. Jim shifted his weight, ready to respond if Bayonne felt jumpy. The man caught his eye. Jim gave his best “not here, not now” glare. Bayonne stared back a challenge, but Jim held his gaze. Finally Bayonne looked away.
“Vester, I’ve got some rough questions to ask,” Micki said. “You up to this?”
“Now’s as good as ever.”
“Did Benji talk about any trouble recently? Maybe at school? Or at the community center? Did he give you any reason to believe someone might be angry with him?”
“Like I said. Everybody loved Banjo. Teachers, coaches. He would sit with the little ones down at Our Joint. That’s the name of the center…Our Joint. He’d go and sit with the kids from preschool and such. Show ’em their letters and colors. Play puzzles with them. You can ask anybody. They all love that boy.” His voiced cracked.
Micki shifted her attention to Bayonne, allowing Vester a moment to compose himself.
“How about you? There’s ten years’ difference between you and Benji. Sometimes a kid will tell his big brother stuff he wouldn’t tell his parents.”
Bayonne looked away. He said nothing, but Jim could see his anger still simmered.
“Were the two of you close?” Micki asked.
Bayonne’s jaw churned. His breathing was quick and shallow. It took a while for him to respond.
“He’s my blood.” Bayonne looked at Jim. “We talk. We joke. Be there for one another.”
“Two of them had a standing basketball game,” Vester added. “Every Tuesday and Saturday. Down at the park.”
“You don’t talk for me, old man.” Bayonne glared at his father. “They ask me a question, I’ma answer.” He turned back toward Jim. “No talk about any trouble. Like the old man say, everybody love Banjo.”
“How about those games?” Micki asked. “Two of you knew how to play. Anybody resent it? Can you think of someone who might have not taken kindly to losing a game of hoops to the Jackson brothers?”
“Nothin’ like that. Sometimes we play with Banjo’s group. I dumb my play, let the little ones win. Other time we play with my crew. Nobody show that boy favorites. Banjo wanna play with the big boys, they gonna school him. Banjo loved it. Made him better. Most times, though, it just Banjo and me on the court.”
Micki gave Jim a long look. He shrugged. There was nothing to be gained here.
Micki pushed herself up from her seat. “We’re going to find out who’s responsible for Benji’s death, Mr. Jackson.” She looked down the table as Vester struggled to stand. “If you or your son have any ideas, no matter how odd they might seem, about who or why, I want you to call me. Day or night. Either of you.”
Vester Jackson shook her hand and headed out the door. Micki walked out behind him. Jim waited by the wall until Bayonne Jackson stood.
“I’d like a word, Bayonne.”
Bayonne sauntered toward him. “It matter if I mind?”
“Not really. You got a lot of anger, Three Pop. Daddy issues are dripping off you like sweat. Your father’s going through a tough time. Can you cut him some slack?”
“You my buddy now?” Bayonne was six foot two, two hundred pounds of muscle. He threw his shoulders back and pulled himself tall. “Some kinda social worker?”
“You loved Banjo. Times like these, families can help one another.”
“You let me take care of mine.”
Jim pointed to a tattoo on Bayonne’s face. Two teardrops outlined in dark ink.
“That second one there looks fresh.”
Bayonne said nothing.
“I’m guessing the first one’s for your mom. Outlined. Mom died of natural causes. No reason for revenge. That one’s always going to remain an outline, isn’t it?”
“What you do, Mr. Detective? Watch some gangster movie? Maybe read yourself a handout?”
“But that second one. That’s new as dawn. You got ideas of filling it in? Maybe finding who killed your brother and taking
Similar Books
