We All Fall Down by Michael Harvey Page A

sure where they buried her. But I know the man that killed her.”
    I had worked the case the entire summer and into the fall. Never got a solid lead.
    “Name in the hood was Creeper. Paid five dollars for a blow job and cracked ’em in the back of the head while they was bobbin’. Don’t know how he got ’em into the dump without anyone seeing.” Ray Ray snapped his fingers. “I always figured he took ’em in the bedsheets.”
    “You sure it was him?”
    The gang leader sat down again. “Tracked him to his house one night. Fucking teardown shack maybe two miles from here. Waited until he was gone, then I busted in. Found four more girls in the cellar. Dead a long motherfucking time. So I waited for him to come home. Tied him to a chair and skinned his face with a kitchen knife. Then I stabbed him in the throat and buried him with the girls. Lit the place up and left. Firemen never figured a goddamn thing. Fourteen years old and my cherry was popped. But good.”
    “I could’ve taken care of it,” I said.
    “You would’ve skinned him for me?”
    “No.”
    “All right, then. People like to take care of their own shit. You Irish, right?”
    I nodded.
    “IRA do the same thing. Belfast. Falls Road. Police their own. Keep the fucking English cops out.”
    Ray Ray thought he saw what he wanted in my face and grinned. “You look surprised. Dumb gangbanger nigger talking ’bout something he should know nuthin’ about. But that’s the rest of the story, ain’t it?
    “Fours took me in after I killed Creeper. Gave me a family. Money. Respect. Then they found out I was smart.”
    Ray Ray tilted back in his chair, relaxed now that the part about his mom was out of the way. “Not just a little smart, either. BA in economics, with honors. Two years ago, MBA from Kellogg.”
    “Fours paid for your education?”
    “Every dime.”
    “And now you run their business—selling rock where you grew up. To kids.”
    “You don’t like that?”
    “Do you?”
    “Fours been putting young ’uns through college for years. Shit, I’m paying for three niggers out of my own pocket right now. Tell ’em when they go in. Don’t flunk out. Don’t fuck up. And if you don’t want to go into the business when you graduate, we cool.”
    “How many come back?”
    Ray Ray waggled a hand back and forth. “Fifty-fifty. Some born to it. Some not.”
    “And you can tell?”
    “Usually.”
    “Like Marcus, maybe?”
    “Boy feelin’ nothing inside. So, yeah, he good.”
    “A year or two, he’s gonna be taking your job.”
    Ray Ray thought that was funny as all hell and checked the thick silver watch on his wrist. “My moms bought you an hour. Too bad she ain’t got enough in the till to buy your life.”
    I heard a soft thumping. The shoveling had started up again.
    “You’re gonna kill me no matter what I tell you?”
    “Probably.”
    “Take me upstairs. I’ll show you why I’m here. Then decide.”
    The gang leader stared at his boots. Then he stood up and motioned toward the stairs. I went up first, my new friend just behind.

CHAPTER 18
    Ray Ray put me on the floor, up against a display of Red Bull. The boy called Marcus sat across from me in a grocery store aisle, eating Pringles from a can. For the moment, I couldn’t see anyone else.
    Ray Ray squatted down on his heels. “Tell me what I need to know, and we’ll make it quick.”
    I looked over at the Korean, lying three feet to my right. Wax eyes stared back.
    “Your friend, Mr. Lee, had a side business. I think those boxes downstairs had something to do with it.”
    “I know all about Lee’s side business.” Ray Ray stood up. Marcus moved his gun from his side to his lap.
    “If you know Lee’s business, you know he was cutting deals with someone downtown,” I said. “My friend’s a newspaper reporter. Asked me to come down here and talk to Lee. See what I could find out.”
    Ray Ray moved close again. “Newspaper reporter, huh?”
    “That’s right.