Free Color of Justice by Gary Hardwick Page B

about the Bakers?” asked Paul. His voice was surprisingly high and feminine. For some reason, this made Erik smile a little.
    â€œYes,” Danny said. “We just need to ask you a few questions.”
    â€œTerrible thing,” said Inez. “They were good people.”
    â€œPlease, we’re entertaining right now,” said Paul. “Let’s go into another room.”
    Danny was about to ask about their guests and why they needed to be away from them, when one of them walked in. Danny looked over and saw a black man of medium build wearing a nicely tailored suit. He looked familiar, but he could not place him directly.
    â€œAnything wrong?” asked the man. His voice was smooth and rich with bass.
    â€œHamilton,” said Paul. “These men are here about the Bakers.”
    At the mention of the name “Hamilton” Danny knew who he was looking at. Hamilton Grace, the president of the NOAA, a large group of black political organizations. Danny had seen him in the papers and on TV. Now he knew why Paul Long was so nervous. Hamilton Grace meant power. Not the kind of guest you wanted to know that the cops had come calling about a corpse.
    â€œHamilton Grace,” he introduced himself. “You’re the police, I assume.”
    â€œYes, sir,” said Danny. “I’m Detective Cavanaugh and this is my partner, Erik Brown.”
    â€œDetectives,” said Hamilton. “This is tragic. The Bakers were good friends of mine. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”
    â€œWe will, sir,” said Erik.
    Danny detected a respect in his partner that had not been present with the Longs.
    Hamilton whispered something urgently to the Longs, then excused himself and walked off.
    â€œHamilton and his sons were visiting,” said Paul. “They live close by. We wanted his sons to meet our daughter, Amy, but she flew the coop. Can’t blame her actually. Maybe parents shouldn’t meddle.”
    Hamilton came back to the foyer with two young black men. One was well groomed and dressed in an elegant suit. The other was scraggly-looking and dressed in hip-hop gear: baggy pants, big shirt, and boots. He also had a stud in the side of his nose.
    â€œWe’ll come back soon,” said Hamilton. “Thank you for having us.”
    â€œThanks so much,” said the son in the suit, “and give my best to Amy.”
    â€œPeace,” said the scraggly son, and he walked off. He was all attitude, Danny thought.
    Paul followed Hamilton to the door, practically kissing his butt out of the house.
    â€œThose are his sons?” asked Erik. “They don’t look anything alike.”
    â€œJordan’s adopted,” said Inez. “And he’s an exemplary young man. Logan is another story.”
    Danny understood that Logan, the natural son, was the hip-hop kid. The adopted kid was the one in the suit.
    â€œI’d be exemplary, too,” said Paul, “if my father was loaded like Hamilton.” His tone was very gossipy.
    â€œAny reason you know of that someone wouldwant the Bakers dead?” asked Danny, trying to get back to business.
    â€œNo,” said Paul quickly.
    â€œWe understand that you had recently had some bad business dealings with the Bakers,” said Erik.
    â€œSurely, you don’t mean to suggest that we had anything to do with this?” said Mrs. Long.
    â€œWe just need to know the nature of the business in question,” said Danny. He didn’t want to digress.
    â€œI don’t like this inquiry, Detective,” said Paul. “I’ll refer you to my lawyer.”
    â€œYou’re not under arrest,” said Danny. “And you don’t have to talk to us if you don’t want to. But people will wonder why. I know I would.”
    â€œWe had a fight,” said Paul with a sigh. Mrs. Long was about to say something, but he cut her off with a look. “We met the