“Roberta,” Daryl finally manages.“Meet Aliah.She owns the place.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Roberta informs our hostess.
There’s one dumpling left on the plate.Roberta gives Daryl a pointed look before snagging it for herself.He shrugs, sits back, dabs delicately at his mouth with his napkin.
“So… you’re a parole officer?”I start out, remembering her announcing that much.“Daryl’s former parole officer?”
“Yeah.First five years after his release, this dumb lug reported to me.Drug testing, working, socializing.His successful re-entry to society all came down to me, me, and me.”
Daryl smiles.“Roberta’s selling herself short.It was all about her.”
“And now?”I venture, still trying to understand the dynamic between these two.
“We dance.”
I do a little a double take, return my attention to Roberta.She certainly has the grace of a dancer, but her following his lead… I don’t see it.
She sighs heavily.“I know, but it’s true.Big boy here didn’t just stay on the straight and narrow; he actually, like, chilled out.Even started to act happy.For most parolees that’s not how life works, so I asked for the secret to his success.His answer: ballroom dancing.What the fuck, right?I had to see it to believe it.Next thing I knew, I was mamboing away.”
Aliah perks up, her gaze going between them with clear approval.
“No!”Roberta cuts our hostess off at the pass.“It’s not like that.Daryl was my parolee.Now he’s my dance partner.But I go home to my main man every night.He tolerates Daryl, mostly because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna shake, rattle, and roll.Last time I mentioned rumba, he thought I was talking about a vacuum cleaner.”She rolls her eyes.“Luca has his gifts, but rhythm isn’t one of them.”
She leans forward.“Seriously, Daryl.Why are you interested in two guys whose skulls were shattered by a hammer?”
Daryl doesn’t say anything so much as nod in Aliah’s direction.Roberta immediately swings her attention toward the older woman.
“What do you know?You see something, hear something?Tell me.”
Aliah recoils.There’s something in her gaze, a bit hunted, a bit haunted.
“What do you know?”I speak up, if only to rescue Aliah.“You’re a parole officer, not a homicide detective.”
“The homicide detective would be my brother.Whom Daryl called first.Except Marc isn’t that stupid.It’s an active investigation.No way he’s speaking out of school.”
“But you’re here.”I tilt my head, regard her more seriously.“Because while a detective couldn’t comment on an active investigation, there’s nothing stopping you…”
“What do you know?”Roberta repeats impatiently, willing to take me on if Aliah won’t play.
“Primary crime scene?Or body dump?”I’m pleased that I sound like I know what I’m talking about, because I genuinely do my best to avoid crime scenes.Though lately, that system hasn’t been working for me, and now I know things such as the look in a man’s eyes right before a bullet obliterates his brain.
My hands are shaking slightly.I place them on my lap under the table.
Roberta is still frowning at me with impatience.
“Dance,” Daryl speaks up softly, his attention on her.“Take the lead.Get the rhythm started.Let them join.”
Roberta huffs a little.Finally: “Primary crime scene.Messy one at that.”
“The two men?”Aliah asks hesitantly.“You know who they are?”
“Prints weren’t in the system.”
“A description?What do they look like?”
Roberta arches a brow.“Honey, they look like men who had their skulls annihilated by a hammer.The crime scene specialists are still collecting all the teeth.”
Aliah winces.I fist my hands under the table.