The Dying Ground (24 page)

“Holly’s not safe, Cissy. He has too much to pay for.” She and I both knew I spoke of John Claire. I had never, even at my most reflective, let my mind wander to Holly’s role in John
Claire’s death. But now it was out there for the first time since it happened. Another debt.

“Don’t say it, Maceo. You were the only one who believed him without question. Don’t say it just because you don’t want him with me.”

I wished it were that simple. “The car is this way.” I unhooked my fingers and let her hand drop away.

We were silent. The radio took the place of conversation as I drove down Broadway to the intersection where it split in two. I was halfway to Alcatraz before I realized where I was going. Cissy had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. Her head was turned to the breeze that filtered in from the open window. The heat had tapered off but not enough to match the calendar month. Our Indian summer looked as if it might stretch into November.

When I stopped at a red light, Cissy opened her eyes and gasped. “Maceo!”

I’d driven there without direction but it made sense. College and Alcatraz: the scene of Billy’s murder. The place where it was all set in motion.

“I’ma get out for a minute.” I pulled over and parked illegally in a handicapped zone in front of a corner store.

She reached for me but I was already out of the car. “You can stay. I won’t be long.”

I saw the door open but she thought better of it and closed it quietly. I walked away with the sound of the radio ringing in my ears.

On the corner I stopped for a moment. I could imagine, in my mind’s eye, Billy slumped over the steering wheel, the horn blaring into the quiet hills above. Straight ahead, and visible because of the Campanile, was UC Berkeley. I closed my eyes and
tried to imagine what he saw, what the last thing he focused on was before it went black.

I turned away and walked south on Alcatraz, toward the hills, in the direction I imagined that Felicia ran. The killers would have been on the north side, on Billy’s side of the car, so she must have sprinted south for the hills.

As I walked I heard the tinny sound of music, not the bass-heavy beat from the Cougar but the small, faraway aluminum sound of a transistor radio.

I kept my hands in my pockets and never looked toward the source of the music, but I knew what it was: a faceless member of the Berkeley homeless. I was right. Beneath a bundle of dirty blankets and old clothes was a person and a dog, a dog with a simian face to match his owner’s. Both of them were covered with soot, so much that I couldn’t tell the gender of either one. They appeared to be hunkered and comfortable there, like it was familiar, not the perfect place but a spot that was theirs.

I turned back toward the car, cut into an alley behind the Buttercup Cafe, and came out into the bright lights of the Safeway supermarket parking lot. The store was due to close at midnight and I slipped in just before the doors were locked.

I pulled a ten-pound bag of dog food and a gallon of water from the shelf and paid for them. I retraced my steps down the alley and came out just on the other side of the storefront. The transistor played on and the dog eyed me with new interest as I approached.

“Hey there. I got the wrong brand for my girlfriend’s dog. Can you use this?” I asked the question in a distracted manner as if it was an afterthought, an act of charity that occurred to me just at that moment.

The bundle of material bubbled beneath the surface and a hand reached toward me. I tore open the bag and poured a little, just a little, onto the sidewalk. The dog looked once at its
owner, hoping for an okay but prepared to pursue its own course if it didn’t get what it wanted.

“It’s alright.” I kept my voice low as I kneeled. The dog inched forward, hungry but leery. I wasn’t that excited about it either. It looked to be infested with everything the Berkeley streets had to offer.

“You can give her more than that.” The bundle moved enough for a head and torso to appear. “She’ll eat it. She got a good appetite. I can go alright without food, but she can’t. What I get I give more than half to her.”

“I got a dog eat like that too. A girl. Doberman named Clio.”

“Doberman, uh-uh. Turn on their owners. Not her, though. Sweet. Had her since she was a puppy. She had a litter too but animal control got ’em.”

The dog nudged my hand with her nose: more food. I poured again, the same amount as last time. “What’s her name?”

“This one? That’s Lana Turner. You say your dog is Clio?”

“Yep.”

“No last name?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, that’s not good, man.” The bundles were moved away and a man emerged. Hippie burnout. Shaggy hair. All his clothes layered on his body, creating an illusion of bulk. “All my dogs had last names. They want to own themselves too.”

“Never thought about it like that.”

He tapped his temple. “You got to. You got to. They depend on us. Lana Turner appreciates that I took the time. Think about it.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

“Hot enough for you out here?” I handed over the water container. It disappeared quickly under the rags in case I might change my mind.

“Been hotter.”

“Last Friday. Last Friday was hot.”

“I don’t know nothing about that.” He shook his head and made to go back undercover.

I rolled the top of the dog food bag closed. He and the dog watched me. “Didn’t mean to get in your way.” I lifted the bag under my arm.

“You gonna leave that? Thought you said it was the wrong brand.”

“I can mix it in with the regular stuff.”

He came back out of the clothes pile. “Dogs don’t like that, man. Just leave it here.”

I stood my ground, with the dog food the deal point between the three of us. They wanted the food and I wanted information. Lana Turner looked hopefully at her owner.

He finally conceded. “It was hot.”

I sighed and opened the top of the bag. Maybe he knew something that could bring the nightmare to an end and let Felicia come home.

“It was so hot I wasn’t in my usual post.” He pointed down the street toward a gas station. There was an alley that ran parallel to the pumps. “Too much movement. We came up here to this spot and hunkered down for the night.”

“Lot of people on the streets?”

“At first. Then, right after midnight, it slowed down. By one o’clock there were hardly any cars. Nobody walking. Like everybody disappeared.”

“What happened? You know what I’m talking about.”

His eyes shifted from side to side in avoidance, but we were engaged.

“You talking about the guy in the car?”

“Yeah. And a girl. There was a girl, right?”

He nodded. “She’s the only one I saw. I slept through
everything else, but she ran right past me and spooked Lana Turner.”

“She ran by here?” I looked down at the ground as if there might be clues in her faded footsteps.

“I looked up just as she passed. She scared me. My dog too. Looked like a ghost. Wide-open eyes, no tears, and gasping for air.”

“Was she hurt?”

“I couldn’t tell.”

“Did anyone come after her?”

“No, but I could hear them calling from the corner.”

“Them?”

“Yeah. There were two of them. I couldn’t see too well. They stayed out of the light but they kept calling her even after she was gone. Then they drove away.”

“Did you see what they were driving?”

“A black Chevy. Muscle car. Loud.”

“But you didn’t see ’em?”

“Not like you want. Dark skin, I think, but there wasn’t a moon so I couldn’t be sure. They stayed away from the light, then drove away.”

“And the girl ran that away?” I pointed toward the hills.

“Far as I could tell.”

I set the bag of dog food on his pile of clothes and scooped a generous handful out for Lana Turner.

“Thanks, man.” He smiled as his dog greedily devoured the morsels scattered on the cement.

“No problem. Did you tell the police any of this?”

“They never asked. We went up in the hills soon as we heard sirens.”

“Alright.” I reached in my pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. He snatched it away before I could change my mind. “Be safe.”

“You too.”

I was halfway down the hill before he called out to me. “You know the girl? Felicia. That’s what they called her.”

“Yeah, I know her.”

“Felicia. Nice name. Maybe if Lana has some puppies.”

The car was exactly where I left it, but something was different. Something was wrong. The air had changed. The entire street was charged with danger, the pungent smell of a predator locked onto his prey. I knew someone watched me.

I took another step toward the car before I realized Cissy was gone.

T
he blow came out of nowhere.

I was so focused on the empty car I’d forgotten to check my surroundings. The fist slammed into the weak spot behind my ear while a foot connected to my ribs. I went down, fast and hard, on my shoulder. Another foot met my spine, and a scalding-hot pain shot straight to my brain.

“Cissy?” I muttered weakly, aware that my attackers probably held her life in their hands.

I was rolled onto my back, where I struggled helplessly with my arms pinned beneath me. A foot came down hard on my throat and collapsed the walls of my windpipe. I could barely get air through my nose or mouth.

I kicked outward and tried to connect with some part of the man’s body, but he danced away swiftly and laughed, a deep menacing chuckle laced with pleasure. As he bounced under the streetlight I saw the mask and knew it was the guy from the Nickel and Dime there to finish his job. Another kick to the ribs
sent bile up from my stomach and into my mouth. It made it to my lips before retreating down to puddle in my throat. I gagged and sucked for air like a fish.

“Can’t breathe, motherfucker? Let me help you.” He bent down and closed my nose together with his fingers while keeping his foot pressed to my throat. Someone came up behind him and a new pair of hands held me down. I heard a knife flick open and its steel tip was pressed into my inner ear.

“Maybe we can cut you a new breathing hole.”

They laughed and hauled me to my feet. My shoulder was out of its socket and one arm dangled at an odd angle. It didn’t matter. They snatched both arms behind my back and tied the wrists.

“We got something for you to see,” the first man said. The second one stayed and pulled a Molotov from his coat. I knew the Cougar would be his next victim.

I stumbled along, dazed. My feet were kicked from under me at every other step but I managed to stay upright. I spit into the face of the man on my left. He let it hang there and then punched me once, quickly, in the ear and I saw a flash of light. I learned instantly that sharp pain is always met with bursts of color or flashes of whiteness like shooting stars.

“Fuck you,” I said through clenched teeth. “Fuck you.”

“Think so? I got a better idea.” They laughed again and dragged me into an alley that ran behind the liquor store. I saw Cissy as soon as we turned the corner. She was bound and naked from the waist up. Tears ran down her face though her skin was unmarked—not a single blemish, as if they had been extra careful with her. She dropped her eyes to the ground, and I noticed tufts of hair, like the guts of a pillow, scattered around her knees. I wondered where they came from.

Then my stomach rose up to my throat for a second time. Cissy was completely bald. The jagged lines of a razor ran an ugly path across her scalp.

I was stunned. I knew instantly that it was Smokey’s work. Cissy’s humiliation was directed point-blank at Holly as if she weren’t even an entity. A cold-blooded drug dealer’s weapon of torture. A rival’s woman. His weakness. Holly and Cissy hadn’t been as secret as they thought.

I couldn’t look at her. I was just as responsible for her condition as Holly, if not more so. Hot tears streamed down my face but I wasn’t ashamed. “Cissy.”

She flinched at the sound of crunching gravel. An unmistakable bulk stepped from the darkness: Smokey. He pulled the mask from his head just so I could be sure.

“Maceo, you the cryingest bitch I ever met.” He laughed. “I gotta say this ’bout your boy Billy, though. He was a true all the way to the end.” He gave me a minute to let the words sink in. Billy. He was talking about Billy. “Yeah, rolled up on that nigga right at this same corner.” He laughed at the memory. “Bam, before he even knew what hit him. He was gone just like that and his girl got in the cut. So much for true love, don’t believe in it myself.

“And if I was you, Maceo, I wouldn’t trust that bitch Felicia to spit on me if I was on fire.”

I blocked his words. I needed to concentrate on Cissy, somehow get us both out of that alley alive. Cissy tried to move away from Smokey but with her hands tied behind her back she couldn’t get far. He reached out and grabbed her by the neck.

“Smoke, man, what the fuck are you doing? Let her go.” I said the words without hope. I knew there was no chance of compliance, but my helplessness was castrating.

“Let her go?” He laughed. “Aw, naw, baby, we got plans.” He unceremoniously shoved her face in his crotch. I railed up against the grip of my captors but they held me tightly in place and forced me down to my knees. In the middle of that she tried to keep her exposed body turned away from the two men at my
side. Smokey grabbed her again and ground her face into his crotch. He made a lewd face at me.