Read The Sleeping and the Dead for Free Online Page A

had seen him alive, maybe one of the last people to see him before he was murdered by the Playhouse Killer. Six hundred thousand people live in Memphis, over a million in the greater metropolitan area. Memphis has the highest rate of violent crime in the country, one of the highest murder rates, and for the last four years I had photographed most of them—everything from cheating wives to gangbangers killed Bonnie-and-Clyde-style in their pimpmobiles. I don’t know how many times I’d heard people say, I just saw so-and-so a couple of hours ago, I can’t believe she’s dead. Now I was saying the same words, over and over. Adam was talking and I hadn’t heard a thing he said.
    â€œWhat?” I tried to catch the thread of his one-sided conversation.
    â€œI said I always heard Michi was a perv.”
    â€œHe is a perv.”
    â€œIf he’s helping you, he can’t be all bad.” He winked and rose to his feet. Michi’s nasally whale song preceded him down the wall.
    â€œBut what do they want, Cole?”
    â€œTo talk to you.”
    â€œDid the neighbors complain again?”
    â€œThey’re not in uniform. One’s a detective, the other is your photographer.”
    They rounded the corner and Michi stopped, huffing in the doorway and leaning against the frame for support. Cole waited behind him, balancing a silver tray on his fingertips. A glass pitcher and four frosted martini glasses stood on the tray. Michi was dressed in a long formal black kimono with clusters of pink cherries embroidered on the sleeves. His face was flushed and damp, as though he had just washed it in scalding hot water.
    â€œJackie! What are you doing, bringing the police into my house?”
    Cole slid past him and set the tray on the coffee table.
    â€œWe just need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Mori,” Adam said.
    â€œAbout what?” Cole asked. He poured four martinis into the glasses. “I’m Michi-san’s legal counsel, by the way.”
    â€œI didn’t know you were a lawyer.”
    â€œI’m not. But I’ve written enough lawyers to fake it. Besides, he needs me to hold his fat little hand.” He passed a martini to Michi, who took it, tossed it back and set the empty glass on a side table in almost one motion. Cole offered the next one to Adam, but he declined. Cole passed it to me.
    â€œNow. What’s all this about?”
    I glanced at Adam and he nodded that I should take over. I took a sip of the martini. It was a good one. “When I was here this afternoon, there was a black kid, about five-ten, thin-boned, curly hair. He answered the door.” Michi and Cole looked at one another and Cole shrugged. “He came into the kitchen while you and I were talking, Michi. He said he was going out. You said his name was Chris something.”
    â€œOh, him! Chris Hendricks. You remember Chris,” Cole said to Michi. He turned back to Adam. “What’s he done?”
    â€œHe’s dead.”
    â€œOh Jesus!” Michi shrieked and collapsed like a deflating accordion, nearly tipping out of his chair. Adam caught him before he spilled onto the floor. He helped him to the Casanova loveseat. Cole knelt beside him.
    â€œHow?” Michi gasped. “Where?”
    â€œThey found him at the Orpheum.”
    â€œSweet Jesus.” Cole patted Michi’s face with a handkerchief. “Oh, sweet Jesus. Which play this time?”
    â€œNobody said this was a Playhouse Killer case,” Adam said.
    â€œOh please!” Cole patted Michi’s hand and looked at me. “Which play?”
    â€œ Edward the Second ,” I answered.
    â€œHe said he was going out with someone. Do you know who?” Adam asked.
    Michi mumbled, “No. No, I don’t. There’s so many boys, I can’t keep up with them.…”
    Cole dipped his fingers into a martini and flicked gin in Michi’s face. “You think