Least Wanted (Sam McRae Mystery 2)
“Tell me, how late was Tina there?”
Beaufort held his face in his hands. “It was a little before nine when they lef’,” he said.
“Are you sure of the time?” I asked.
“Yeah. They said their ride would be there at nine. They all come wit’ some friend o’ Rochelle.”
I breathed a sigh. That was an hour after the neighbor thought she’d seen Tina leave her house. She had an alibi.
“So who was the friend?” I asked.
“I dunno.” He saw the look on my face and his voice cracked. “Look, I really dunno. All I know is it was some friend, see?”
Little D looked at me, ready to have at him. I held him back with a raised hand. He scowled, but stayed where he was.
“So how did you get hooked up with the guys at Kozmik Games?”
“Say what? What guys?”
“The guys paying you for the porn.”
“I dunno about no guys,” he said, in a loud, exasperated voice.
“Well, why were you in Philadelphia looking for Cooper?”
I sucker-punched Beaufort with that question. His eyes widened and he stuttered. “Ph-Ph-Philadelphia? I ain’t been there.”
“Don’t bother to deny it. There’s a witness who can identify you.” I didn’t mention that the charming Elva McKutcheon thought all black people looked alike. For another twenty bucks she’d probably identify him—even if she didn’t recognize him.
Beaufort squirmed. “I went there to find that dude Cooper, as a favor for a friend.”
“What favor? What friend?”
“He wanted to talk to Cooper, is all.”
“Who did?”
He shook his head.
“Someone with Kozmik Games?”
In one fluid motion, Little D sprang from his spot against the wall, grabbed Beaufort’s arm and twisted it behind his back. “Start talkin’, mutherfucker. And tell us the truth.”
“I don’t know whatchoo talkin’ ’bout wit’ ’dis Kozmik Game shit!” Beaufort was laying it on a bit thick, I thought. Either he really didn’t know or he was lying at the top of his voice.
His rage barely suppressed, Little D glared at Greg. “You want me to break his arm?” he said quietly. Beaufort whimpered.
“That won’t be necessary,” I said, keeping a steady tone. “We have an alibi for Tina, either through him or the person who took Tina and the other girls home. Breaking his arm could be considered overkill.”
“Too bad,” Little D said. “I could stand a little overkill right now.”
We left Beaufort sitting in the chair, head bowed.
* * * * *
Little D had someplace to be. I decided to see Tina’s guidance counselor before I left the building. I wanted to know if he’d heard anything more through the grapevine. Frank Powell’s office was locked. One of the staff said he’d taken the day off. I made a mental note to call Powell the next day and asked to see the principal about the janitor’s “after-school program.”
The principal was tied up, but the vice principal agreed to see me. Reginald Thompson was bony and long-limbed, with a face as brown as a raisin and almost as wrinkled. His handshake and manner were firm and no-nonsense.