Spiral

closing the glass panel, an African-American boy standing in front of him, eyes down toward the white-tiled floor. Because Kalil had been working the camera, I hadn’t seen him on the birthday-party video. He was about five feet tall and pudgy, with full cheeks and short hair under a reversed baseball cap. His clothes consisted of a Miami Heat T-shirt, baggy rayon shorts that hung past his knees, and this year’s version of Air Jordans.
    When Buford Biggs turned from the doorway, he took a step toward Delgis Reyes and Gordo Lazar, both of whom were sitting on stools at the center island, Lazar eating again. Then Biggs saw me and stopped.
    ”You still here?”
    As Kalil’s eyes came up from the floor, I said, ”Haven’t talked to everybody I need to.”
    The boy looked at me like a frightened fawn, then back down to the white dies again.
    His father said, ‘You meaning my son?”
    ”Among others.”
    Biggs weighed something, then said, ”I want to be there.” Not worth the battle. ”All right. How about the patio again, so you can have a cigarette.”
    A snort. ”Don’t smoke around my boy, babe, but the patio be okay.” Biggs paused. ”Kalil, this man, he need to ask you some questions.”
    A tiny nod, the face still examining the floor.
    ”But I be with you, the whole time.”
    Another tiny nod.
    Buford Biggs said, ”Let’s go.”
    His son followed him back outside. As I passed Gordo Lazar, he said, ”Go easy on the kid, huh?”
    It surprised me a little, and I didn’t say anything back. When I reached the patio, Biggs was pulling a third chair over to the pair we’d used earlier near the hummingbird feeder. He pointed to one for Kalil, then sat himself to his son’s right. I rearranged the last chair to Kalil’s left, as much to keep my own left eye on his father as to be close to the person who I hoped would answer my questions.
    Kalil’s sneakers didn’t quite settle flat on the tiles, the balls of his feet touching but the heels jigging up and down to no apparent rhythm. His thick fingers worried each other in his lap as he looked down at them.
    I said, ”Kalil, do you know who I am?”
    The tiny nod.
    I looked first to Biggs, then back to his son. ”Tell me?” Kalil glanced up at me, then down again. ”T-t-tell you what?”
    I could see the neck cords bulge as he clamped his jaw so hard, the teeth clashed.
    Biggs said, ”Kalil, he have a blockage on his ‘t’s.’” Different tack. ”Does your speech specialist help you with those?”
    Another nod.
    ”Tell me how.”
    A couple of deep breaths before, ”She has me say my name, real slow. Then for fluency we do different inflections on words and other speech p-p-patterns.”
    Biggs said, ”He have trouble with his ‘p’s,’ too.”
    ”What else does your specialist do?”
    Kalil took another deep breath. ”She says there’s almost t-t-two and a half million of us in America who stammer. That people like Marilyn Monroe and this English guy Winston Churchill did, too, and they learned how t-t-to deal with it.” A near-smile. ”She says I’m lucky, on account of I just got blockages on p-p-particular syllables.”
    Shy and awkward he might be, but bright. ”Kalil, I know this isn’t pleasant for you. However, Mr. Helides hired me to try and find out what happened the day of the birthday party, and I need your help for that.”
    The tiny nod again.
    I waited a moment, then said, ”But I also need you to tell me what you remember in your own words, and I’m in no rush here, so you can take your time.”
    Kalil looked up at me, holding the gaze longer than before. ”Ask your questions.”
    ”When did you meet Veronica?”
    ”Couple years ago.” Deep breath. ”I had p-p-problems in school, so we had some classes t-t-together even though she was younger than me. Since our daddies knew each other, she t-t-talked with—”
    A hummingbird zoomed to the feeder, and Kalil jumped half out of his chair. ”Damn b-b-bird.”
    Biggs said, ”When he get scared of something, he have troubles with—”
    ”I’m not scared! It was just a b-b-b-b...”
    Kalil stopped, the teeth clashing again as he clenched and looked down at his hands, twisting in his lap.
    I gave him a moment before, ”Did you like Veronica?” The tiny nod.
    I took a chance. ”Why?”
    Kalil glanced up at me briefly before returning to his lap. ”She never made fun of me.”
    ”How often did you see her?”
    A shrug. ”Last year a lot, account of the