no confidence in the court system to deal with these slime. And I have no trouble helping to hasten their demise."
He was a hard man, but Auntie Lil wasn't going to argue with his position. It probably took a lot more than desire to keep on trying to clean up the streets. Obsession and a fair amount of hatred would be essential, too. "Do you know how I can get in touch with them?" she asked him. "I just want to ask them a few questions about Emily."
He stared at their photos. "I might be able to get Little Pete to talk to you. I doubt Timmy will bite, though. He's cagey and suspicious. Something's going on with him. I don't know what. He got real friendly and now he's been avoiding me. Like a lot of other people I know." He slid the photos back across the desk to Auntie Lil. "I'll see what I can do about Little Pete. How do I get in touch with you?"
Auntie Lil gave him her name and phone number, then T.S.'s number as a back-up. "In a pinch, you can always get word to me through Father Stebbins or some of the soup kitchen regulars," she added.
He nodded. It was early afternoon and he already looked exhausted. "If you really want to volunteer," he said with just the tiniest spark of hope, "I could use some help."
Auntie Lil nodded her head. She didn't like to promise what she couldn't deliver, but she knew the man needed something to go on. "When all this is over," she said, "I'll see what I can do. I assume you'll take either money or time."
"Lady, I will take whatever I can get."
He accompanied Auntie Lil to the door and they shook hands farewell. As she was leaving, she noticed a young girl not more than twelve years old waiting in the shadows of a nearby doorway. Her blonde hair was greasy and limp, and her tiny midriff top barely covered a childish chest and an even more childlike rounded tummy. Her hot pants were a wrinkled and grimy lime green. She wore high heels and watched Auntie Lil pass by from under a curtain of dirty bangs. Her eyes were not childish at all.
Auntie Lil walked slowly to the corner before turning around for a peek. The young girl was shyly knocking on the front door of Homefront. Bob Fleming stuck his head out and, for the first time, Auntie Lil saw him smile. His face was transformed, exhaustion giving way to hope. He nodded and gestured for her to come on inside.
Auntie Lil wondered if the young girl would be one of the few who decided to call home.
Like lemmings, they converged across the street from Emily's building: Auntie Lil, Herbert Wong and T.S. The team of volunteer tails was still at St. Barnabas, consuming their meal of the day. "Any luck?" T.S. asked Auntie Lil.
"I've got names for the two young boys." She stared at the collection of pocketbooks held by both men. "Not very chic," she admonished them. "One well-matched accessory is usually more than enough."
"Very funny," T.S. acknowledged. "Your pal, Franklin, found these. He thinks one of them might be Emily's."
Auntie Lil's face lit up. "Excellent. I must remember to thank him."
"You'll have plenty of opportunities," T.S. assured her. "Haven't you heard? He's joined the team. Adelle has consented to let him have a bit part."
His little dig at Adelle was lost on Auntie Lil. She had caught sight of Herbert Wong's new tie pin and was busy oohing and aahing over the craftsmanship. T.S., who was not in the mood to hear from what exotic port the pin had hailed, suggested firmly that they adjourn to a more private spot before they began rummaging through the pocketbooks. "Otherwise, we'll look like a gang of thieves," he warned them. "And lord knows Lieutenant Abromowitz would seize on any chance to give us trouble."
The mention of the lieutenant reminded Auntie Lil of her need to talk with Det. George Santos. "Let's go to the Westsider and examine them," she decided for them all. "Detective Santos hangs out there and I need to have a word with him."
She led the way confidently westward, as if she frequently paraded down to the waterfront for a visit to the friendly neighborhood dive bars. Along the way, she explained the mystery of Emily's apartment. Neither T.S. or Herbert could figure it out.