Free If I Should Die by Grace F. Edwards Page B

misappropriated millions and was sentenced to ten months in jail, which had been suspended in lieu of two years of community service.
    How had he wound up at the Uptown Children’s Chorus?
    I called Deborah to find out how far she had been able to dig beneath the surface.
    She came on the line and there was a pause. “Mali? Is that you?”
    “Yes. What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
    When she answered, the hesitation was more pronounced. “Mali, listen to me. Give it up, okay?”
    And she hung up before I could ask her why.

chapter eight
    A lvin sat at the table moving his breakfast around on his plate. I glanced at him for the third time in as many minutes and wondered how anyone could look at food so cold the egg yolks had congealed and the bacon had wilted. Again this morning, it seemed he was not going to eat. In fact, for the last few days, he had hardly touched any food.
    I was running out of menus and wondered if I should try the corner hot dog stand next. Well, maybe not quite that, but it might be a good idea to eat out.
    “I’m taking Ruffin for a stroll,” I announced, pushing my chair back from the table. “Want to come with me?”
    Dad glanced up from his newspaper. “I already took him out, just an hour ago.”
    “Well, okay. But I feel like walking anyway. Come on, Alvin. Today’s Saturday. The weather’s nice. Why stick in the house? We can stroll down to the AfricanMarket on 116th Street, or maybe pick up some pies from Wimpy’s and fish ‘n’ chips from Majestic’s.”
    He didn’t respond, even to a menu like that.
    “And if you want, we can pass by the ball court on the way.”
    He looked up then. “Which court?”
    “The one near the projects where Clarence lives.”
    I watched his face for a reaction. There was only mild interest, and I wondered if he had heard anything of Clarence’s threats against Dr. Harding. The rehearsal hall had closed temporarily following Gary Mark’s death, so any new rumors were hard to come by. Maybe I could pick up some word on the ball court.
    He considered it for a minute, then smiled faintly. “Okay, let’s go.” He put his plate in the sink and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. “See you later, Grandpa.”
    Outside, the sky was a penetrating blue washed with the fading streaks of a skywriter. The unpredictable weather, so characteristic of late April, seemed to have come to terms with the calendar and decided to settle into a pleasant and steady springlike mode.
    The Saturday crowd, taking advantage of the great weather, was out in force. The barbecue stand was already smoking on the corner of 127th Street and a ten-gallon vat nearby was filled with corn on the cob, bobbing in a boiling foam. The vendors, under the market umbrella, had stacked fresh boiled crabs in scarlet rows and had their shucking knives and hot sauce ready for the littleneck clams.
    We reached the basketball court a little past noon, too early for the large crowd that usually shared the benches to watch the ballplayers or to lay something on the single action when the numbers runner passed. A few boys were under the hoop, all much older than Alvin,practicing the art of bobbing, weaving, and hustling for the ball.
    One of them flew past, bouncing the ball down the court and out of bounds.
    “Yo! Down for one?” He beckoned to Alvin as he retrieved the ball.
    “Naw. Not yet. You seen Clarence?”
    “Clarence? He don’t show till the afternoon. He a night owl. Or vampire, one. He up in the dark and doze in the day …”
    The boy dribbled the ball, turned suddenly, and executed a half-court shot that spun on the rim for a second before dropping through. Then he was gone down the court again, clapping, jumping high in the air.
    We watched for several more minutes and decided to go to the market and stop by again on the way home.
    Two hours later Clarence was on the court. I watched him move with the ball, turn, jump, and shoot, then he was gliding away from