Free Fearless Jones by Walter Mosley

just raised better.
    “We have to go,” I said. “Thanks anyway. See ya, Fanny, Morris.”
    The sloppy bowling pin grimaced.
    “Call me if you need anything,” Fanny said.
    “We’ll pick you up in the morning,” Fearless promised.
    Then we left the unmatched set of relatives to argue manners and race over coffee and rolls.
    I HAD THE ADDRESS of E. E. Love written down on a scrap of paper. Fearless drove us to the Twenty-eighth Street abode. The small, single-story
     gray house was surrounded by sagging trellises that were heavy with vines of golden roses. There wasno light on, no car in the driveway, but still we knocked at the front door.
    No answer.
    A big dog came strolling down the street. It was a light-colored, short-haired and meaty mutt that nearly shimmered under
     a granite streetlamp. I saw him before he saw us. He did an almost human double take and then started barking for all he was
     worth.
    “We better get outta here,” I said.
    “We ain’t even got here yet.” Fearless went down on one knee and held out his hand.
    The barking dog got braver and braver. Growling and gurgling murder he advanced on Fearless, who for his part looked like
     a modern-day African saint. The dog snapped and then he sniffed. He pushed his nose against Fearless’s hand, then plopped
     down on the ground, turning over onto his back to show his belly.
    Fearless scratched the dog and then stood up, his new best friend at his side.
    There was a black, lift-top mailbox attached to the wall next to the front door. It was stuffed with mail. I pulled out an
     envelope wedged in at the side. By match light I read the name Miss Elana Love scrawled in purple ink.
    “This is the right place,” I said.
    Fearless’s dog growled in anticipation. Fearless pushed him by the neck toward the front walk, and the mutt seemed to understand
     the command. He padded his way to the curb and stood there daring some phantom intruder to try and go by.
    I went around the side of the house, testing windows. On the third try I was successful. Once inside I went straight through
     thegloom to where the front door should have been. It was there. Fearless snaked in, closing the door behind him. I found a lamp
     on a table and turned it on.
    After making sure that the house was empty we decided to separate to make our search. The whole front of the house was the
     living room. It was just a couch and two chairs with a stand-up maple bar on top of two mismatched blue throw rugs. The rugs
     were ugly. One had a diamond pattern, and the other was covered in small white dots.
    At either end of the living room was a door. One led to the kitchen, the other to her bedroom. Between these two rooms was
     the toilet.
    Elana’s bedroom was simple enough. A single bed with pink sheets and a dresser with a mirror and chair. The window looked
     out on a fence cordoning off her three-foot-deep backyard. I went through the drawers of the dresser, the closet, the pockets
     of her clothes. I checked under the sheets and between the mattresses, on the window ledge and under the bed. There was nothing
     there. Nothing. She had three dresses in the closet and only one pair of shoes.
    Fearless and I met in the bathroom. Two towels on a chrome rack, a half-used bar of white soap, and no floor mat. In the trash
     can there were a towel and a wad of cotton bandages clotted with a good deal of partially dried blood. I poked at the dressing
     with a handy toothbrush, but Fearless reached in and pulled out the bloody rags.
    “Somebody been wounded pretty good,” he said.
    “No shit,” I replied.
    I went over the kitchen again because Fearless didn’t have the patience to search for anything smaller than an elephant. Therewasn’t much to see there either. A jar of instant coffee, white bread, and an open can of condensed milk.
    “I bet she only stays here now and then,” I said. “She probably only keeps the place in case her boyfriend of the week has
     a change of