Each of us waited, each in his own way. One especially fine day, Lamont and I were anticipating Brewster’s arrival—he had promised to bring some fresh batteries for our radio. The early-afternoon sun was still strong, and we relaxed under its soothing warmth. Our pleasure was enriched by the knowledge that the sun’s blessing was distributed without regard to status. “I got them!” Brewster announced his arrival. True to his word, he had three packets of batteries, still in their plastic seals. “You did well,” I told him. “I found out something else, too!” he burst out. “This is really important, Ho.” “Yes?” I said. Lamont took another drink from his paper bag. “I went to the library,” Brewster said. “The big one, on Forty-second. You know what Michael’s always saying, you can find anything there? So I figured I’d check the papers from other cities. Ones close to here, I mean, like over in Jersey. Maybe there would be something in there about a dead pimp.
