Criminal

with the dude at the mission.”
    So, Trey Callahan had lied to them, too.
    “Dude always comin’ ’round at night, trying to preach to my gals.”
    “The man from the soup kitchen?” Juice nodded. “Were the girls ever afraid of him?”
    “Shit. They ain’t afraid’a nothin’ when I’m around. That’s my job, bitch.”
    She made yet another slash on the paper. “This man from the church came at night to your street corner and tried to preach to Lucy and Kitty and—”
    “Nah, they gone by then. Mary, too.” He sat up in his chair. “Lookit, that salvation shit okay during the day, but don’t come shootin’ off ’bout Jesus while I’m tryin’ to do my bidness. You feel me?”
    “I do.” Amanda leaned forward. “Tell me who killed Jane Delray.”
    “You get me outta here?”
    Amanda was getting good at this game, but she wasn’t quite there yet. Juice obviously read her expression.
    “Shit.” He slumped back in his chair. “You cain’t do nothin’, bitch.”
    “If I could find someone from City Hall to talk to you, could you tell him who killed Jane?”
    “Another slit?”
    “No, a man. Someone in charge.” Amanda didn’t know anyone downtown except for a bunch of secretaries. Still, she kept her shoulders straight, put some threat into her tone. “But you have to tell him something meaningful. You have to give him a name that can be followed up on. Otherwise, that deal you made with Butch and Landry goes out the window. I promise you, the state will bring back the death penalty. By the time it goes to the Supreme Court, you’ll be dead.”
    There was a tapping sound. His leg had started moving up and down. The heel of his patent leather shoe clicked against the concrete. “I gotta deal. Done made my confession.”
    “That doesn’t matter anymore.”
    “Whatchu mean?”
    “I mean, you confessed to killing Lucy Bennett, not Jane Delray. Once I tell them about the mistake—” She shrugged. “I hope they remember to shave your head before they strap that metal cap on.”
    He was nervous. His breath whistled through his broken nose. “Whatchu mean, bitch?”
    “You hear about the last guy they executed? His hair caught on fire. The switch was too hot. They couldn’t turn it off. He burned alive. Flames went as high as the ceiling. He screamed for two whole minutes before they found the junction box and shut it down.”
    Juice’s throat worked. His leg was shaking so hard that his knee bumped the table.
    “Give me a name, Juice. Tell me who killed Jane.”
    His fist clenched and unclenched. The table trembled.
    “Give me a name.”
    He pounded his fist against the table. “I ain’t gotta name!”
    Amanda clicked her pen. She closed her notebook. She hadn’t flinched. She kept perfectly calm, waiting.
    “Got damn.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “Got damn them bitches. Gettin’ me on the hook for this shit.”
    “Who would want to kill Jane?”
    “Ever’body,” he said. “She mouth off all the time. Make enemies on the street.”
    “Anyone who would murder her?”
    “Not without gettin’ they throat slit. Bitch kept a knife in her purse. All them do. Girl knew how to use it. Cain’t turn your back on her fo’ a minute. Bitch mean as a snake.”
    “That’s pretty rich coming from her pimp.”
    He didn’t respond. His shoulders rounded. He gripped his hands in his lap. “What’d that other bitch say? ’Bout Kitty knowin’ the mayor? You think he can give a brother a hand? Get me outta this mess?”
    “I told you, if you tell me the truth, maybe I can help you.”
    He stared at her, eyes going back and forth as if he was reading a book.
    “Shee-it,” he mumbled. “You think they gone lissen to you?” He pushed himself up from the table. Amanda’s body tensed, but she stayed seated as he loomed over her. “Look ’round you, bitch.” He held out his hands. “They let a black man run this world ’fore they let a slit do.”
* * *
    Amanda stood at Evelyn’s front door with a bottle of wine in her hand. It wasn’t the cheap stuff, but she was uncertain whether or not price had anything to do with taste. As with many things, she was out of her element. Especially when Kenny Mitchell opened the door.
    A smile spread across his mouth. His teeth were perfect. His face was perfect. There wasn’t anything about him she would change. Not that Amanda would be given the chance.
    He said, “Amanda. Great to see you again.” He leaned toward her,