The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)(67)
“Girl, this is bad. How would he even know that thing existed?”
I hesitate. “I told the police, and Casey Junior did say he thought his dad was killed by a cop.”
A shadow passes over Lawrence’s face. I wait for it to lift, but the gloom stays put. “That was thirty years ago. But if Junior is right and this is about his father, this is bad. Like really bad. And if the police are in on it, or in on it again . . .” He trails off, rubbing his hands over his face. “Did your boss really say he thought Casey Senior was murdered?”
The weight of that idea hangs on Lawrence’s frame, heavy as a millstone.
“Yes. He said he thinks the heart attack ruling on the police report was a cover-up.”
“I’d suspected, but of course, I couldn’t come forward. I was a homeless high-school-dropout drag queen. I figured everyone would think I was crazy.” He runs his hands over his face again and looks at the ceiling. “Casey Senior was definitely playing superhero on his own time. I just never knew that it was what he put in his comic books or that it got him killed.”
I sit on the bed in the purple-tinted sunshine streaming through the sheer paisley curtains, the roller shade beneath hanging lopsided and broken. Lawrence comes to sit next to me, and we both bask in the warmness of the sunshine for a moment, lost in thought.
L’s voice breaks the silence. “I was always a good kid, but my parents didn’t take kindly to me coming out. My dad was head of the psychology department at a state college, and my parents had dreams of me becoming a professor or a lawyer. I failed all my classes in school except theater. I’ve always known it’s what I wanted to do. Long story short, they kicked me out when I told them that I preferred men to women. I didn’t have anywhere to live or a way to pay for school, so I started doing drag shows. Back then it wasn’t as popular as it is now, and it took me a while to meet my real drag family. I fell in with a bit of a rough crowd at first—drugs, meaningless sex, sabotage—but it was a place to live, and I loved the stage. Anyway, one of the things they’d have me do to earn my rent was to steal stuff for them to sell. I didn’t love it, but I didn’t really have any options.”
“Lawrence, that is awful.”
He nods. “It wasn’t good. So there I was in this ritzy neighborhood, supposed to break into this house where the people were on vacation. I broke into a window, crawled in, and came face-to-face with Casey Senior. You can imagine my shock. I’d gotten the wrong house. I think he expected me to pull a gun or something, but I’ve never been made of material like that. So I apologized profusely, made up some ridiculous story about how I was dog-sitting for these people, forgot my key, and broke into the wrong house by mistake.” L gives a humorless chuckle. “He knew I was lying, of course, but he invited me to sit with him like I was a guest and not some skinny black kid who had just busted his window. He asked me my name, and I told him my real one, and when he asked what I was really doing, I told him the truth too. All of it. My parents, the queens, the drugs, the stealing. How we’d hit several houses in the neighborhood. I can’t explain it. The guy had this energy around him. He made you want to trust him with your story.”
“I get that.” It’s what I could feel in his house. His spirit was still there for sure.
Lawrence takes a deep breath, then stretches his legs out in front of him. “Anyway, after hearing my story, this guy I’d never met offers me a place to live. He says he likes my story and that lots of superheroes have tough beginnings. He tells me that I’ll have to work for him, help out with watching the house for breakins from my old crew, and help around the house, but that if I did that, I could stay until I had enough money for college. So I did.”
I put my arm around Lawrence and give him a squeeze. “I had no idea.”
“I don’t tell many people.”
“So do you think the queens you lived with are the ones we’re looking for? Do you think they could have killed Casey Senior?”
“No. But if that’s what really happened, I have an idea who it could be. And . . . if it is them, then Casey Senior’s death is on my hands.”
I shift on the bed as a car door slams outside. I throw myself backward on the mattress and yank up the shade on the window over L’s bed to see the street below. A quick glance assures me it’s not Matteo, so I turn back to L and motion for him to continue.
He nods and continues, “Casey Senior was horrified to find out that there was so much crime going on right under his nose. You know, I believe he really did think he was a real superhero. Anyway, I told him about how we’d been stealing items from the houses and giving them to various drug dealers in exchange for drugs—all types. Heroin, weed, cocaine. I didn’t even use the drugs, but I was the fetch-and-steal boy to support everyone else’s habits. So after hearing my stories, Casey Senior decided that he was going to make a formal complaint to the police department and that I could give them all my inside knowledge so that they could crack down on the problem and stop it cold. It was a great idea, until the police officer arrived and I recognized him as one of the drug dealers I’d stolen stuff for.”
“Yikes.” My pulse speeds up. I’ve been right to worry about crooked cops. Lawrence has already had brushes with them in the past. Maybe even someone who is recognizable today.