“That’s right. What I said. What I heard. Now, let me go. C’mon, man, let go!”
I let him pull away from me, walk away a few steps.
Loy regained his composure and cool as soon as he realized that I wasn’t going to hurt him, or even take him in for questioning.
“That’s the story. You owe me,” he said. “I’m gonna collect, too.” I don’t believe Loy saw the irony in what he was saying.
“I owe you,” I said. “Thanks, Loy.” I hope you don’t ever have to collect.
He winked at me. “Be all you can be, al-riii!” he said and laughed and laughed as he walked back to the other crack runners.
CHAPTER
39
AN OLD HOMELESS MAN near the murder scene. In Garfield Park. That was something solid to work with, finally. I had paid some dues and gotten a return on investment.
A white man. A white suspect.
That was even more promising. There weren’t too many white males hanging out in the Garfield Park area. That was for sure.
I called Sampson and told him what I’d found out. He’d just come on duty for the night shift. I asked John how it was going on his end. He said that it wasn’t going, but maybe now it would. He would let the others in our group know.
At a little past five, I stopped by the Sojourner Truth School again. There were several forces strongly pulling me in the direction of the school. The new information about the homeless white man and the constant feeling that just maybe my nemesis Gary Soneji might be involved. That was part of it. Then there was Christine Johnson. Mrs. Johnson.
Once again, nobody was sitting at the desk in the outer office. The multiracial dolls on the desk looked abandoned. So did some “face doodles” and a couple of Goosebump books. The heavy wooden door into the main office was shut tight.
I couldn’t hear anyone inside, but I knocked anyway. I heard a drawer bang shut, then footsteps. The door opened. It wasn’t locked.
Christine Johnson had on a cashmere jacket and long wool skirt. Her hair was pulled back and tied with a yellow bow. She was wearing her glasses. Working barefoot. I thought of a line—from Dorothy Parker, I think—Men seldom make passes/At girls who wear glasses.
Seeing her lifted my spirits, brought me up immediately. I didn’t know exactly why, but it did.
It occurred to me that she worked late at the school a lot. That was her business, but I wondered why she spent so much time here.
“Yes, I’m working late again. You caught me in the act. Redhanded, guilty as charged. A friend of yours dropped by the school this morning,” she said. “A detective John Sampson.”
“He’s in charge of the case,” I said.
“He seems very dedicated and concerned. Surprising in a lot of ways. He’s reading Camus,” she said.
I wondered how he had worked that into their conversation. Among other noble pursuits, Sampson is dedicated to meeting interesting and attractive women, like Christine Johnson. It wouldn’t bother him that she was married, unless it bothered her. Sampson can be chivalrous to a fault, but only if it’s appreciated.
“Sampson reads a lot, always has since I’ve known him. My grandmother taught him in school, before I met him, actually. He’s the original Pagemaster.”
Christine Johnson smiled, showed me all those beautiful teeth of hers. “You’re familiar with the movie Pagemaster? I guess you must see them all.”
“I do see them all. Anything the kids ‘have to, have to see, Daddy!’ We gave Pagemaster a six. But we’re not as down on Master Macaulay Culkin as some people seem to be.”
She continued to smile and seemed to be an extremely nice person. Smart enough to do many things—patient and concerned enough to do this difficult job in the city. I envied her students.
I got right down to the business I had at the school. “The reason I stopped by is that there’s a possible ID on the killer—a start, anyway. I heard about it this afternoon, not too long ago.”
Christine Johnson listened closely to what I had to say. Her brow furrowed deeply. Her brown eyes were intense. She was a good listener, which, if I remembered correctly, was unusual for a school principal.
“An older man, a white man, was seen in the vicinity of where Shanelle Green was originally abducted in Garfield Park. He was described as a street p
erson. Possibly a homeless man. Not very big, with a full white beard, wearing a brown or black poncho.”