Least Wanted (Sam McRae Mystery 2)

“Sam McRae.” His voice rumbled in the subwoofer range and he extended a hand which enveloped mine like a catcher’s mitt. “I’m Darius Wilson,” he said. “But you can call me Little D. I think you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Well, Duvall was right.” I said. “There isn’t much truth to that nickname, is there?”

Little D issued a throaty chuckle. “A mere accident of birth order.”

“Have a seat.” I rounded the desk and sat down, while he wedged himself into the guest chair. “So what brings you to me?”

“I understand you’re Tina Jackson’s attorney.” He made eye-to-eye contact. I liked that. “I want to help with her defense.”

“How much would you charge?”

“Nothing.” I must have looked surprised. “Shanae and I were friends,” he continued. “I feel I owe it to her to look after the girl.”

“You were just friends?”

He shrugged. “We did a bit of business, too. Mainly friends.”

“When you say business, what does that refer to?”

“I’m getting to that,” he said calmly.

I gestured for him to continue.

“First, let me just explain about Tina. I’ve met her and I know one thing—she may have done some bad things, but she’s not a killer.”

The prisons are crowded with people who “didn’t do it,” I thought. “How can you be sure?”

“Because I’ve met killers.” His gaze hardened. “And she ain’t one of them.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you, but the police don’t. And they have evidence to back their position.”

“Such as?”

“Tina’s association with a gang. The bat used to kill Shanae had Tina’s fingerprints all over it.”

He snorted. “‘Course it had her fingerprints on it. I’m sure it had Shanae’s fingerprints on it, too. When Tina quit her softball team, Shanae kept the damn thing around for protection, so either of them could’ve handled it. She also had a gun upstairs in her night table.” He shifted in the chair, a brown bear trying to squeeze into a kiddie seat. “Ironic, isn’t it?”

I let it pass. “Did Tina know about the gun?”

“Oh, yeah. Shanae wasn’t too happy about having it in the house, but she felt like it was insurance. She kept it unloaded, the clip beside it in the drawer. And she warned Tina to stay away from it.”

I rocked back and forth in my chair, considering that. “If Tina knew there was a gun in the house, why would she beat her mother to death with a bat? Unless she was uncomfortable with the idea of using a gun.” I paused. “Or Shanae attacked her and she had to defend herself.”

The way he squinted told me I’d never want to be on his bad side. “You think Shanae was still hitting on her? Roughing her up?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m playing devil’s advocate. The police know about Shanae’s history of domestic abuse. That kind of abuse can become mutual over time.”

He shook his head. “Like them social workers say, Shanae had some issues. Okay, so she wouldn’t have won any Mother of the Year awards. But Tina’s not a killer. She’s a kid, just trying to fit in. What she needs is a little guidance. The kind of thing Shanae wasn’t real good at giving. Why you think she started hanging with a gang?” he asked. “A gang’s like family. What she didn’t get at home, she tried to find on the street.”

Again, I thought of Bed-Stuy. How differently things might have gone, if I’d stayed.

“You know, a neighbor saw what looked like a young kid, leaving the house late on the night Shanae died,” I said. “Could have been Tina. Could have been a friend. She’s not sure.”

Little D pointed at me. “Maybe someone in the gang.”

“Maybe. The neighbor didn’t get a good look at the kid’s face, so it might have been a boy.”