Free Muller, Marcia - [McCone 03] Cheshire Cat's Eye, The_(v.1,shtml)

lived here for generations."
    "Right. Do you know where the next black ghettos will be?"
    "No."
    "In the older tracts of the suburbs. South, in Daly City. East, in Concord. Down the Peninsula. Look at East Palo Alto—as far back as twelve years ago, the residents sponsored an initiative on the ballot to change the name to Nairobi."
    "Okay, I hear what you're saying. But, still, what does all this have to do with the murder I'm investigating?"
    Dettman leaned forward, his palms flat on the desk. "It has everything to do with it. People don't like to be displaced, to have to move far from their jobs and the area they call home. There's a great deal of anger brewing in this neighborhood. We have a drug traffic that's run out of control. What you see here is an upsurge of rage. And when large numbers of people get angry, others get hurt."
    "And you think Jake Kaufmann was a victim of that rage?"
    "I know it."
    I regarded him warily. There was a strange light in his eyes and his fingers, laced together once more, twitched. I wondered if Nick Dettman were completely sane.
    "How do you know this, Mr. Dettman?"
    "I know my neighborhood. I know my people."
    "Or do you know about one specific person?"
    "What?"
    "Do you know who killed Jake Kaufmann?"
    Our eyes locked together in the long silence. Then Dettman leaned back in his chair and gave a hollow laugh. "If I knew that, would I tell you?"
    "No, but it doesn't hurt to ask."
    "You'd be surprised, Miss McCone, how much it can hurt to ask. You can become one of the people damaged by the anger I described."
    "Is that a threat?"
    "Of course not. But you should realize that the streets around here aren't the safest place for a pretty white woman."
    I didn't like Nick Dettman and I didn't like his insinuation. I stood up. "All right, if that's the level this conversation has sunk to, I'm going."
    His hand crept toward the cookie box, and again he pulled it back. "You won't go before I give you a message for that faggot client of yours."
    "Oh, yes?"
    "You go back there and you tell him he'd better halt that housing project and get out of my neighborhood."
    "Or else?"
    He frowned.
    "Or else?" I repeated. "When you threaten a person, there's always an 'or else.'"
    His dark features twisted. It was a moment before he could speak. "Yes, Miss McCone, there is an 'or else.' People will get hurt. Like Jake Kaufmann was. It could start with Wintringham. Or his workers. Or his buddy, Paul. It could even start with you."
    "Or you, Mr. Dettman," I replied quietly. "Or it could start with you."
    I whirled and strode out of there, pausing briefly on the sidewalk to catch my breath. A young black man in a leather coat stepped around me, throwing me a puzzled glance. It wasn't until he had entered Dettman's orange door that I recognized him as the man who had come into Johnny Hart's the night before with the news of the "white dude's" murder.

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CHAPTER 10
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    Normally I would have waited outside to see what happened between the two men, but that would foolhardy at night in this neighborhood. I hurried back to the Victorian block on Steiner Street by a more circuitous, but safer, route than I'd come.
    Dim lights showed in the windows of the yellow-and-blue Italianate. I knocked and, when I received no response, tried the door. It was unlocked. Crossing the hallway to the parlor, I saw flickering light in the dining room. I went back there, calling out Wintringham's name.
    Flames roared and leapt on the hearth of the fireplace. I stepped toward their warmth then turned, startled. Larry French sat on the long trestle table. A bottle of bourbon stood in front of him, the reflection of the flames playing on its surface. French nodded at me and tipped a glass to his lips.
    "Davie-poo's not here, McCone." His speech, while not slurred, sounded like he'd had a lot to drink. Was French the habitual drunk I was looking for?
    "Do you know when he'll be back?"
    "After the show closes.