Deacon King Kong(83)

That morning she got there ten minutes later than normal, to find Miss Izi first in line, having arrived early as usual, chatting with Sister Gee, who stood behind the cheese distribution table, having been appointed to the sad duty of distributing the cheese in Sausage’s absence. Not far behind her were the Cousins, Joaquin the numbers runner, and Bum-Bum’s secret delight, Dominic the Haitian Sensation, whose face, she noted, looked freshly washed and whose fingernails looked clipped—always a sign of good sanitation in a man. Behind him were the two other members of the Puerto Rican Statehood Society of the Cause Houses. All the heavy hitters of news, views, and gossip were there in perfect formation. Today had all the makings of good conversation and excellent hot gossip.

She sidled into her honorary place at the front of the line just behind Miss Izi, who had saved her a spot, and slipped in just in time to hear Miss Izi give her views on the matter.

“Sportcoat had been drinking himself to the quit line for twenty years,” she said. “But I didn’t think Sausage drank that much. Maybe they got into a fight and shot each other.”

“Sausage didn’t shoot nobody,” Bum-Bum said.

Standing in line behind her, Dominic—who just happened to rise up at five a.m. and just happened to arrive at the basement door at six a.m., and by golly just happened to find himself lined up behind Bum-Bum after trading places with several people in line so that he could move up—agreed. “Sausage was a good friend,” he said.

Joaquin, several spots behind them, looked strangely sad. “I borrowed twelve dollars from Sausage,” he said. “I’m glad I didn’t pay it back.”

“God, you are cheap,” Miss Izi said. She was standing a good five people ahead of her ex-husband and stepped out of line to address him. “You’re so tight with money your ass squeaks when you walk.”

“At least I have an ass,” he said.

“Yeah. Three. One’s on your face.”

“Pig!”

“Gilipollas!”

“Perro!”

A man at the back of the line yelled at Miss Izi to get her fat ass back in line.

“Mind your business!” Joaquin snapped.

“Make me, Joaquin!” he hollered.

Joaquin stepped out of line and a general ruckus was about to get out of hand but was quelled by Soup the giant, who stepped in, looking somber in his Nation of Islam suit. Sister Gee quickly intervened, moving from behind the long table piled high with cheese and gently coaxing Soup aside.

“Can y’all keep your heads, please?” she said. “We don’t know what happened. We’ll know more later.”

Later came right away, as there was a bit of shuffling at the entranceway. Sister Gee watched as the cheese line that snaked out the door suddenly shifted. Several people stepped aside, and Sergeant Potts stepped into the boiler room.

He was followed by his young partner and two plainclothes detectives, all business, who squeezed past the line that jammed the doorway and into the middle of the suddenly crowded boiler room, which fell silent.

Potts looked at the table where Sister Gee stood, then at the nervous residents waiting in line. He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye and saw three people, one woman and two men, step out of line and slip toward the exit without a word. He guessed they were either parolees or had outstanding arrest warrants. A fourth, a huge, young, well-dressed Puerto Rican nearly seven feet tall, moved to follow. The young man looked vaguely familiar to Potts, and as the big figure moved toward the door, Potts’s partner Mitch tapped him and nodded at Soup. “You want me to question him?”

“You kidding? You see the size of that guy?”

Soup slipped out, along with the others.

Potts turned his attention to Sister Gee. Even on an early, bleak Saturday in that dank, crowded basement, she looked lovely as an Irish spring morning. She wore jeans and a blouse that she tied at the waist and her hair tied in a bun with a colorful sash, which set off her lovely features.

“Morning,” he said to her.

She smiled thinly. She didn’t seem happy to see him. “Seems like you brought the whole force today,” she said.

He glanced at the people in line, noticed Bum-Bum, Dominic, and Miss Izi staring at him, nodded toward the three officers, and said, “Could you speak to these officers a minute? Just routine. Nothing to worry about. I saw you three at the church, is all. We just wanna learn about the victims.” To Sister Gee he said, “Can I speak to you outside?”

Sister Gee didn’t bother to tell him that only Sister Bum-Bum was actually a member of Five Ends Baptist. Instead, she turned to one of the Cousins, Nanette, and said simply, “Nanette. Take over.”

She followed Potts up the ramp and outside. When they were in the plaza he turned to her, placed his hands in his pockets, and frowned at the ground. She noticed he was wearing a double-breasted sergeant’s jacket. He looked quite sharp, she thought, and also bothered. Finally he looked at her.

“I will not say I told you so.”

“Good.”

“But as you know, there’s been an incident.”

“I heard.”

“All of it?”

“No. Just rumors. I don’t believe in rumors.”

“Well, we think Ralph Odum . . . Mr. Odum. Um, Hot Sausage, the boiler man, drowned in the harbor.”