Dying in the Dark Read Online Free PDF Page A

bills.”
    I'd decided not to share the details of yesterday's encounter with the man in the black coat. I didn't want to hear about the perils of myprofession, which Jamal brings up with alarming regularity, and I certainly didn't want him getting the crazy idea that it was up to him to protect me. He sat down across from me and emptied the contents of the Cheerios box into his bowl.
    “My worries include grocery bills, too, kid. How about going easy on that cereal and supplementing it with some toast and a couple of bananas.”
    “Things are that bad?” The smile dropped from his face, which brought one to mine.
    “No, I'm just playing with you. Don't worry about it.” I was so used to watching every dime, I'd scolded him without thinking about it. Things weren't bad enough yet to deny the boy a bowl of cereal when he wanted it. But Jamal can definitely pack it away, and I remind myself daily that he's a growing boy. He's taller and heavier than I am and obviously takes after his father's side of the family. Thank God, height and weight are the only things he inherited.
    “So what you doing today?”
    “I was going to catch a game later on with Jake, if that's okay with you.”
    “Sure.” I monitor my expressions whenever Jake Richards's name comes into our conversation, so I kept my eyes glued to the paper. Jake and I are friends, more than anything else, and I've made sure that Jamal understands the limits of our relationship. With the intuition about your love life that only your child possesses, he probably sensed the unspoken, but he knew enough to keep it to himself.
    “He's got tickets for the Nets tonight at Continental Arena. If they end up going to the play-offs, Jake said he'll get tickets to that,too. He'll pick me up and drop me off later. So what's going on with the car situation?” he asked in the same breath.
    “Sick of the bus, eh?”
    “I really miss the Blue Demon.”
    “So do I.” We gave a collective sigh, and then laughed at our mutual grief over the loss of our old Jetta, whose violent demise had saddened us both. The Demon had become a member of our small family—a coughing, raspy, embarrassing member, but kin nevertheless.
    “Rayson's Used Cars has a Black History Month sale on. I'm going to take the bus over and see what I can do. Who knows? Maybe I'll pick you up at Jake's tonight in our new car. I'll call and let you know what happens.”
    “For real?” Excitement shone in his eyes. So much for the Demon's memory.
    “Say a little prayer.” He clasped his hands, closed his eyes, and for an instant I could see the little boy who once knelt beside his bed at night. I studied the paper to keep him from seeing what was in my eyes.
    ‘Anything good in the Ledger?’ He gulped down his juice and topped off another glass.
    “Not really, but—” I stopped midsentence. A funeral announcement in the Death Notices section had caught my eye. I don't usually read the obituary page; life can be depressing enough without reminding yourself of the Great Beyond, but this one jumped out at me. It was a simple obit. The kid hadn't lived long enough yet to get a full paragraph; a few basic sentences was all he got.
CECIL JONES, 17, FEBRUARY 3, OF NEWARK.
BELOVED SON OF BRENT LISTON OF NEWARK.
FUNERAL SERVICES WILL BE HELD AT 6:00 PM ON SATURDAY,
FEBRUARY 8, AT MORGAN'S FUNERAL HOME, EAST ORANGE.
    There was no mention of Celia or how he had died. Beloved son of Brent Liston. That was a laugh.
    “What about your father? Do you have any contact with him?”
    “Every now and then, my old man comes by.”
    Disgusted, I slapped the paper down on the table, which, of course, got Jamal's attention. He picked it up and read the section I'd left open.
    “Wow! Damn! That's cold! I wonder who took CJ out?”
    Red flags popped up. “So you, uh, knew Cecil Jones?”
    Jamal shrugged and turned to the sports pages. I took his silence to mean that he did. ‘And what makes you think somebody took him out,