IQ(81)

“Cal spilled his drink on Bug,” Isaiah said. “If you make a right turn, the passenger leans left.” Isaiah made a right.

“How do you know he turned here?” Dodson said. “Maybe he turned into that alley we just passed.”

Isaiah didn’t answer, looking ahead, worried. “Cal was yelling at somebody and he wanted to close the window—why? Why did he—up there, they’re fixing the street. The guy’s got a jackhammer. Cal wanted to shut out the noise. This is the right street.”

Dodson was getting aggravated. It was as if his job was to lob softballs so Isaiah could knock them out of the park. “Okay,” Dodson said. “But we still don’t know where we going.”


The eenie hallway opened onto a courtyard. The meenie was like a maze, Cal turning corner after corner until he was back in the lobby. The miney went straight but there was supposed to be an exit sign. Was that it? The red blur way at the end or was that one of those floaty things he saw when he drank and took too much Ativan?


Skip heard something coming up behind him. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw five skateboarders. Caps, no helmets, T-shirts with logos on them, and black or blue Vans. Probably seniors in high school. They went past the Corolla, Skip’s jaw dropping as the whole pack of them careened into the parking garage. “I’m f*cking cursed,” he said. He listened to them figure-eighting between the pillars and scraping their wheels on the parking blocks. He could go in there and tell them to leave but what if they didn’t? He’d have to shoot them. “This can’t be happening,” he said. The rapper came out of the Amos Center’s emergency exit just like he was supposed to. He looked woozy, pausing in the vestibule to get his bearings. Then he crossed in front of Skip and went into the parking garage. Skip heard the skateboards scritch and clatter to a stop.

A skateboarder said, “Dude, are you serious?”


Dodson had forgotten about Cal. All he wanted was for Isaiah to say I don’t know. “What are we doing now?” he said.

Isaiah slowed the car to a crawl, horns honking behind him. “Cal said, ‘There it is, Bug.’ Had to be the address.”

“Every building on the block got an address,” Dodson said.

“Right after that Cal saw a parking space but Bug said he couldn’t park there. Why?” Isaiah’s eyes zeroed in on a fire hydrant. “That’s why!”

Shit, Dodson thought. Almost had him.

Isaiah pulled over and they got out of the car. There were office buildings on either side of the street. A clock on the Fidelity building said 11:17. The appointment was probably for eleven. After the morning rush but before lunch.

“Which building?” Dodson said. “They all look alike.”

“Cal said, ‘What’s all that bullshit?’” Isaiah said, turning in a circle. “What bullshit?” He stopped. A tar carrier and a truck were parked in front of the Amos Center, a crane extending from the truck to the roof, scaffolding over the entrance. “That one,” Isaiah said. He took off, Dodson trailing behind. Son of a bitch.

Skip had his forehead on his forearm and his forearm on the steering wheel. The kids and the rapper were rapping.


I’m announcin’ my bouncin’, got her face in my fountain

I’m all up in her plumbin’, my second comin’ and comin’

I’m cocainin’ and drainin’ and runnin’ a trainin’

My Genghis is Khannin’, I’m spawnin’ and yawnin’

the new day is dawnin’ and I still got that longin’

Bonin’, bonin’, bonin’ ’til the break of dawn

Bonin’ ’til my trumpet swans

Bonin’ ’til my seed is gone.

Bonin’, bonin’, bonin’ ’til the break of dawn.



“Seriously?” Skip said.


Isaiah and Dodson entered the lobby of the Amos Center and crossed to the elevators. “Skip needs isolation to kill Cal,” Isaiah said. “The roof.” The elevator doors opened. They got on and Isaiah immediately got off. “Go on up,” he said.

“Where’re you going?” Dodson said.

“I want to see what offices are vacant. Skip might be using one. Just go.” The doors closed.

Isaiah knew Cal wasn’t on the roof because he never got on the elevator. There was no cologne smell in there but there was in the lobby so he was here and he wouldn’t have taken the stairs in his condition. Skip could have lured Cal into an office on the first floor or into the parking garage but that made no sense. There were cameras and people going in and out. In fact, it made no sense killing Cal anywhere in the building. Isaiah had that prickly feeling on his scalp. He was the one who put Cal at risk and if Cal got killed it was his fault. Marcus would haunt him for all eternity. Why here? Isaiah thought. Why in the Amos Center? There had to be a reason… unless there was no reason… unless this wasn’t Cal’s final destination.


Dodson rode the elevator up, the car stopping at every floor, people getting on and off. He had the sneaking suspicion Isaiah had gotten rid of him, thought he’d be in the way, disrespecting him once again. And what if Skip was on the roof with Cal? What was he going to do without a strap? He could not go up there but if Cal got shot Isaiah would blame him and if he did go up there he might get killed. Was twenty-five percent of fifty thousand dollars worth risking his life? He knew what Cherise would say. Dead people don’t need money, Dodson. Don’t be a fool. Cherise was hard on him but she’d brought him to his senses any number of times. Yeah, he’d get off on the next floor and tell Isaiah to go f*ck himself.