Page 38 of Demo
She looks up at me, then darts her eyes down and quickly shakes her head. “No, sorry. You’re mistaken.”
But I know I’m not. “You used to live on State Street?”
Her eyes dart back up to mine. “No, sorry,” she repeats, and starts to back away.
“Jerome King,” I say. And for some reason I expect that to garner a reaction from her, but it doesn’t. “Wait,” I say louder, this time reaching out for her arm.
She whips around and pulls her arm from my grasp.
“Sorry! I’m sorry,” I say, letting go immediately. “Look, I talked to you about three months ago after a drug bust downtown. A kid was shot and killed, Jerome King.”
I can tell she recalls our encounter, but she doesn’t look impressed. In fact, now that I am looking at her close up, I think she might be a little strung out. Her eyes aren’t necessarily bloodshot, but a little glossy. She has a sheen to her face and along her hairline. Not a full-blown sweat, but she looks a little clammy. And she definitely has the shakes.
“Look, I’m not here to stir up shit, and everything here is off the record. I’m here for my own sake,” I say.
Celia nods toward a nearby cot, we walk over and she tosses the grocery bag on it, claiming the spot as hers. She crosses her arms over her chest and looks at me finally. “What do you want to know?”
“You had said Jerome was familiar around the neighborhood? That he was regularly seen going in and out of that raided drug house? Was that honestly the truth?”
Arms still crossed, she half-cocks her head to the side and looks up at me with brows furrowed. “Why are you asking me about Jerome?”
It’s my turn to cross my arms. “His mother claims he was innocent. She’s taking legal action against the city. And things don’t all add up. Paramedics say there were no drugs found on him, although that’s not what the police report stated. I’m just wondering if you have any insight.”
She huffs out a single laugh and runs her hands over her unruly hair, gathering it to the side before releasing it. “No offense, but you’re pretty stupid for a smart woman.”
“None taken. But what the hell does that mean?”
“Aside from the cops, nobody, and I mean nobody, finds drugs on a dead body and just leaves them there. That boy definitely had drugs on him. If that wasn’t in the police report, then his buddies or even the paramedics, or anybody who got to his body first, lifted them.”
I narrow my eyes at her, processing.
“Look, not only had I seen him go into and out of that house, but I had seen himinthat house,” she says, pointing a finger down toward the floor to drive her point home. “Yeah, I also was a frequent flier at that house. When I talked to you, I had been clean for, well, I don’t know exactly. Maybe a few months. Obviously, that didn’t last.” She looks down and around, nervous.
“Are you suggesting someone took the drugs off Jerome before he was transported to the hospital?”
“Someone took the drugs either before he was on the stretcher, before he was in the ambulance,whilehe was in the ambulance, while he was in the hospital … Hell, maybe he was in the morgue. All I know is there was never a time that boy didn’t have drugs on him.”
Well, hell, now I am really getting frustrated. I thought I was going to hear Celia say she lied.
“Look,” she starts up again. “I’m not saying Jerome wasn’t a nice kid. He was. I never saw him with a weapon. I never saw him get into a fight. He was definitely in over his head. Just like me. But his dad was MIA, his mom was working a lot, and I didn’t even realize he had a brother, so I’m not sure what the relationship was there, but he definitely had shit going on. And all it takes is a stupid moment of weakness and sometimes that’s it. You’re hooked. I think that was Jerome.”
I uncross my arms and place my hands on my hips. I take another look around the makeshift shelter, which is starting to fill up.
“Thanks,” I say. “For talking to me again.”
“Sorry you didn’t hear what you hoped to hear.”
Celia seems nice, and I suddenly feel bad leaving her here. “Is there anything I can do for you?” I ask. “Can I, oh, I don’t know, buy you dinner or something? Or some clothes, maybe?” I am hesitant to give her money.
She smiles and waves me away. “Don’t need your money,” she says. “But do me one favor?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t come looking for me anymore.”
Trying not to be offended, I nod my head.
“Bye, Reporter Lady.”
