here on an entirely different matter. If I wasn't already up to my elbows in a different mystery, I'd try to find out for you."
"Why? Are you a private investigator?" His eyes narrowed even more. He did not like private investigators any more than the public kind.
"No. Sometimes I get involved with… puzzles. But I'm not affiliated with any sort of investigative company or bureau at all."
Bob Fleming's eyes darted to the street and he automatically scanned the sidewalks.
"Looks like business is slow," Auntie Lil offered.
"I wish it was. But it's always like this in the middle of the day. But they'll be here. Like vampires. When night falls. That's when they have to face what they've become. That's when they start remembering that they're only twelve or thirteen or ten years old. Night is when they have to stop playing video games and start making money. It's when childhood starts to look pretty damn good as an alternative to the streets."
"You take it hard," Auntie Lil observed. "You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."
Bob Fleming nodded. "I have a lot of weight on my shoulders. And then some. So I don't need any more. It's your turn. Why do you want to find these boys?"
Having no choice, Auntie Lil told Bob Fleming the story of Emily's death. She omitted the part about breaking into her apartment and simply said that she'd found the strip of photos among her personal belongings. "I just want to find the boys and ask them what they knew about her. Maybe they know her real name. We have to find out who she is before we can find out why she was killed."
"And the police don't care." He was not asking a question. He was stating a fact.
"They don't seem to care very much. I guess she isn't very important in the grand scheme of things." Her tone made it clear that Emily was, at least, important to Auntie Lil's grand scheme of things.
Bob Fleming sighed again. He scrutinized Auntie Lil, seemed to decide she was harmless, then ran a calloused finger down the images. "The white kid is Timmy," he told her. "Only his hair's not black anymore. It's blond. Almost white. He's been working out of this neighborhood for about a year, I think. Been on the streets for around two in all, I'd say. He hangs out with the black kid a lot. That's Little Pete. Timmy's from somewhere in the Midwest or maybe the Southwest. I think Little Pete is from around here. I've gotten them to talk to me a couple of times, but it's no use. They're not ready to give up the game."
Auntie Lil didn't have to ask what game. Despite T.S.'s belief that she be kept innocent, Auntie Lil was well aware of the darker side of life. When you've seen six-year-old prostitutes in Thailand being pushed upon strangers by their mothers, the thirteen-year-old ones in New York can seem pretty tame. "Why is it no use talking to them?" she asked.
"They've got someone taking care of them. A pimp, maybe. A sugar daddy, your generation may have called them. I don't know for sure. But he gives them money. New sneakers. Quarters for the video games. Dollars for the cheap double features. Feeds them junk food, like they like. Forget about broccoli or eating your peas. In return, they keep their mouths shut and do what he wants. They won't give up the game until he pulls the rug out from under them."
"What if he doesn't?"
Bob Fleming laughed bitterly. "The one thing I can absolutely guarantee you is that Big Daddy will pull the rug out from under them. I'm surprised they've lasted this long. They've hardened and it shows on the outside. Look at them—you can see the cracks. Any day now they'll start stealing or figuring out how they can up their score. They'll start doing drugs, if they're not already. And then they won't be of use to this guy—whoever he is—or any of his friends."
"You don't know who he is?"
Bob Fleming shook his head. "If I did, he wouldn't still be around. I have a policy about people like him. Take them out any way that you can."
"You don't mean that," Auntie Lil protested. "That would make you as bad as them."
Bob Fleming shrugged. "My conscience is clear. And it would still be clear if I personally rid this neighborhood of another scumbag. I have