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When my cell rang, I hesitated, hoping for once that it wasn’t Daniel. It wasn't. Councilman Calvin Carpenter was on the line.
The night before, when he'd caught me in his office, I'd left my number with him. I didn't care whether he thought it was important to have. I just wanted to develop a working relationship with him, so that maybe in the future, he'd be a resource I could use to help solve the issues of drugs and the homeless. Both of those things were becoming more interesting to me all the time.
I may end up working on his campaign after all, I thought.
"Laila," Carpenter said. "I thought a lot about what you told me last night. It sure seems to me that the problems of homelessness and drug addiction are connected. Maybe using drugs is one way for them to survive on the streets."
My optimism grew as he talked. "Yes, Councilman. I think so, too. It's a survival strategy in the short term, even though it's terribly destructive in the long run."
"I’m calling you," he went on, "because if you still insist on the homeless man’s death being a murder case, I have a name you can contact. Do you want it?"
I grabbed a notepad on the counter near my coffeepot, and quickly bent down to retrieve the pen that landed on the floor. "I’m ready."
"His name is Ricky Thomas. He lives down in the rough part of the old downtown. But if you do decide to go talk to him, I strongly advise you not to go there alone."
Well, my only traveling partner for this would be Thor – but I felt sure he would be all I'd need. "What does this Ricky Thomas look like?" I asked.
"Scruffy looking. A lot of bushy facial hair. His hair is brown and it comes down to the middle of his shoulders in the back."
The man he described could be the one I'd talked with the day I drove down there. "How do you know him?" I asked.
"One of my campaigners told me I should go see the people I was ready to get rid of. A group of us went down there several weeks ago. This Ricky was walking up and down the street alone. I watched him pace within a half-block radius until finally somebody walked up to him. They obviously exchanged money for drugs. I was disgusted with the whole scene."
He paused for a few s
econds. I waited, and kept quiet. "I went up to him and introduced myself and told him I'm trying to rid downtown of drugs. He didn't take too kindly to it, but I tried to win him over with the same winning personality that got me elected, and he eventually told me his name and a bit of his story. Laila, I do want the downtown area revitalized. But that’s not going to happen as long as drug dealers reign down there."
"Wow, seems you got quite the gift. Yeah. I have to agree with that part. It would be good to have an up-and-coming downtown in West River," I said. I wondered just how, exactly, he would rid the area of druggies and their sources, but right now I was more interested in the man named Ricky.
"Okay. I promise that if – if I go down there – I'll be careful. Now, what does this guy Ricky Thomas look like?"
"Well, Ricky Thomas can’t be missed. His arms are heavily tattooed. I remember seeing a bulldog tattoo on his upper arm."
"A bulldog tattoo. Got it." I thought for a minute. "Before you hang up, I have a question for you, Councilman," I said. "Why did you suddenly decide to help me? I mean, what changed your mind?"
He paused. "You enlightened me last night. Your take on the issues convinced me to take a second look."
"That’s it?" I asked.
"Well, of course I want to get re-elected. That way, I can help the community in positive ways." He was a politician, all right. He was real slick at changing the subject. "Laila, have you told the police your suspicions about foul play regarding the homeless man’s death?"
I was not ready to get that friendly with the councilman. "Oh, I'm still thinking about that," I said lightly. He wasn't the only one who could evade a question. Then I thanked him for the information and we ended the call.
I had to think about my next moves very carefully. I thought about the bushy-haired man I talked to on the bad side of town – especially his anger when I'd mentioned the name "John."
I only knew John as a mild-mannered guy who had accepted coffee and Danish from me a few mornings a week. What could he have done to provoke such outrage in a low-life drug dealer on a crime-ridden street?
Chapter Twelve
My thoughts were interrupted again when my phone rang. I glanced at it and then took a deep breath before answering.
"Hey, Daniel. How’s it going with you?"
"For starters, it’s a beautiful day. And you're off work today, aren't you?"
I couldn't help grinning. "I sure am. What are you doing today?"
"I'm on call for the next twenty-four hours. But Laila, I've got some information that I think you'll want to hear."
