Free Known to Evil by Walter Mosley

walked toward me, past the pickle jar of wildflowers. She kissed my cheek and took my arm.
    "This is Bertrand Arnold," she said. "He's one of Dimitri's classmates."
    Arnold, who was as many years older than Dimitri as he was younger than I, stood up and put out a hand.
    "It's an honor to meet you, Mr. McGill. D has told me a lot about you."
    "You're kidding, right?" I said.
    "No."
    "How the hell's a kid who never says more than three words to me at a time gonna be singing my praises to somebody else?"
    The look on the brown man's face was one of bewilderment. He had no prepackaged answer. That told me something.
    "I . . . uh . . ." he said.
    "Leonid," Katrina said in her maternal voice. "You're going to scare the young man."
    "What did D tell you?" I asked Bertrand. "About me, I mean."
    "He ssssaid that you were a detective. That, that, that he once saw you knock down two men at the beach."

    CONEY ISLAND, FIFTEEN YEARS before. Two redneck Brooklynites got it in their heads that a beautiful young white woman like Katrina could find somebody better than a fat little black man. All three kids were with us. Dimitri, the oldest, was not yet eight.
    The two guys had a brief span of time in which to retreat. I stood up, walked over to them, and time was up.

    "HE REMEMBERED THAT, HUH?" I said.
    "Yes," Bertrand replied, vehemently.
    "Let's sit down, Leonid," Katrina, the peacemaker, said.
    "You look kinda old to be one of D's classmates," I suggested to Bertrand as we sat down.
    "My parents own a bakery. Arnold Bakery in Astoria. I wanted to open up a branch store in SoHo. But when the bank asked me for a business plan I realized that I didn't know enough to start a business on my own. So I decided to go back to school. At first it was just an extension course at CCNY. But then I began to realize that I really liked business and so I decided to get a degree. I met Dimitri last year."
    It all sounded very plausible. Generation X and their heirs took longer to mature than their elders. I knew nothing about Dimitri's life, but he must have had friends and schoolmates.
    "Is D in his room changing or something?" I asked.
    "No," Katrina said. "He still hasn't come home."
    "Then why are you here?" I asked the boy-faced man.
    "I haven't seen Dimitri for a few days," he replied. "He's not in class. He doesn't answer his phone. So I decided to drop by to see if he was okay."
    My breathing was normal again. The rage I'd felt at my own helplessness was lessened by the trial of the stairs.
    But the headache was getting worse.
    "I was asking Mr. Arnold if he knew anybody I could call to get in touch with Dimitri," Katrina said.
    "Do you know a friend of D's," I asked Bertrand, "a girl named Tanya--something like that. She might be Russian."
    "I've seen him with a blond girl once or twice over the last couple of weeks. I don't know her name. She never spoke and Dimitri would always hustle her off if I was around. I think he was a little jealous."
    "Why? You makin' eyes at her?"
    "She's very pretty, but I wouldn't go after a girl that he was with."
    "I'm very worried, Leonid," Katrina said.
    "I talked to Dimitri on the walk back home," I said. It wasn't completely a lie. I had talked to him. "He said that he and Twill were with these Russian girls. Mardi told me that Dimitri's friend was maybe called Tanya."
    "Mardi Bitterman?" Katrina said.
    "Yeah. She's my secretary now. Twill wanted me to hire her and I think she might work out."
    "Do you really want a girl like that working for you?"
    "A girl like what?"
    "You know what . . . her history. You were the one who told me."
    "She gets raped so now that means she can't work?"
    Katrina's stony silence was a throwback to the days when we openly detested each other.
    "I should be going," the baker said.
    He stood up.
    "Could you write down your phone number?" I said. "I mean, if D doesn't show up I might want to ask for your help."
    "Sure," the helpful baker replied.
    "I'll get pencil and paper," Katrina