Free Bad Night Is Falling by Gary Phillips

such diligence. “How long have you been on the patrol?” he asked cheerfully.
    â€œIt would be about five years now,” 2X answered, arranging some papers on a desk into a neat pile, then walking off into the inner office. Momentarily he returned, handing two packets to the private eye. “Here’s the files Antar left for you.”
    Monk rose and accepted the thick 9" X 12" envelopes.
    2X added, “He also wanted you to know he’s going to be out of town for a couple of days.”
    â€œWhere’d he go?”
    â€œBack to D.C.”
    â€œIs his reason for going there a secret?” Monk whispered playfully.
    The other man maintained his pleasant, if unaffected expression. “Business with the HUD officials.”
    â€œYou in charge while he’s gone?”
    â€œNot exactly. Though I’m responsible for making sure the shifts are staffed, and everyone is doing what they need to be doing. Eddie and LaToyce are the sergeants.”
    â€œThen you three know what I’m doing around here.”
    â€œYes, Antar told us and Kelmont; he’s kind of the lead man among the squad.”
    â€œSpiritual leader?” Monk said half-jokingly.
    â€œMore like the example, really.”
    â€œYeah?” Monk encouraged.
    â€œHe was a hard-core Del Nine who got his life in turnaround after his two-year-old daughter was killed when a punk shot through his mother’s house.” 2X’s face had remained impassive, but there was a somberness in his tone.
    â€œHow about you, Keith? If you’ve been in the RaFalcons for five years, then you must have hooked up with Absalla about the time he left the Nation.”
    â€œYou aren’t just asking to make conversation.” He said it straightforwardly without rancor.
    â€œBeing nosey comes with the gig,” Monk said unapologetically.
    2X processed the information and said, “I can respect that. My introduction to Islam came through a study group I was in at Cal State Dominguez Hills. We were reading Carter G. Woodson’s—”
    â€œ Miseducation of the Negro ,” Monk interjected.
    â€œExactly. John Henrik Clark, Fanon, Angela’s writings, Huey’s Revolutionary Suicide , and of course Basil Davidson’s books on African history.”
    â€œAnd from that you became a Muslim?”
    The younger man touched his chest with a hand. “Technically, I’m not a Black Muslim. The Nation wasn’t all that, yo? So beyond a few meetings, I never officially joined. Taking the name 2X stands for the rejection of my slave name and not eating swine, but I maintain my independence.”
    â€œYour politics then are drawn from several sources,” Monk concluded.
    2X nodded appreciatively.
    A woman in her midtwenties entered the office, crisp in her dark blues, her long braids flaying like living creatures.
    2X introduced the two. “LaToyce Blaine, this is Ivan Monk, the man Antar hired to look into the murders.”
    â€œWhat’s going on,” she said, eyeing Monk while addressing 2X.
    â€œThere was a call from Delugach over in Rita Walter’s office, a couple of tips about what goes on in number 455, and one from our favorite supporter, Mrs. Limón. She wanted to talk with Antar right quick.”
    Blaine rolled her eyes as she headed for the inner office. “I better call her fore she put a picket line around the office. See you around, Mr. Monk.”
    â€œHope so.” Placing his attention back on 2X, he said, “I was walking around yesterday and encountered some of the Domingos. You know any of them by name?”
    â€œSure.” 2X moved to the main desk, picking up a clipboard and pencil.
    â€œHow about the leader. He couldn’t have been over five feet four, but he was cut, you know?”
    â€œThat’s Big Loco, the number-one hard boy of this set, yo?” 2X clarified.
    â€œThere’s more than one Domingos set? I thought