“Then who?” she asked, looking nervously to Ava and Frank.
“We can’t say,” Frank said. “But the more important thing is that we now know you and your band, and maybe even Tony, are lying to us. And I want to know why.”
“Robert told us that Leon and Monty Lincoln had an argument not too long before Monty was killed,” Ava said. “And Leon was about to tell us all about it.”
As the four of them looked at one another, sizing each other up, Leon’s nephew smacked the can with his stick, spinning it across the sidewalk. He noticed that Ma was there now and seemed pleased, but continued to keep his distance, probably because of the strange white people who had suddenly appeared.
“I think you should tell them,” Ma said.
“Why me? Why not you?”
Ma cackled, a genuine belly-busting laugh. “Me. A black woman. You know how far my word is going to go? You’re just as black as me, but at least you got them man parts between your legs. That stands for something, you know.”
Ava found it funny that Leon seemed to blush at Ma’s mention of man parts. He gathered his composure and shrugged. He kept his voice quiet, glancing over to his nephew.
“Me and Ma are an item these days. Have been for about a month or so. Keeping it quiet, though. Not even her band members know. I’m the one that convinced Tony to check them out. So I was there, helping them set up when they needed help and sneaking glances at Ma when I could. Now, on that day, at some point right when they got there and started bringing in their instruments, in walks Monty Lincoln. He’d been talking to Tony about buying the place for a while but I don’t think Tony was interested.
“Anyway, Ma walks back out into the back alley for some fresh air and sort of waves at me, wants me to follow her. So I do, but on the way, Tony stops me. Tells me he needs me to check on that bad toilet in the back. I tell him I will, but I need to step out for a second. So I go out behind Ma…maybe a minute or two after. And when I got out to the alley, I planned to steal a kiss or three. But I step outside, and there’s Monty Lincoln and he’s got Ma pressed against the wall. Not violent or nothing, but he’s got his hands on her chest and her backside and she’s asking him to stop.”
Ma made a hmmph noise under her breath. “I would have slapped him but…well, the white and black thing again. Messed up how I’d be the guilty one there, now ain’t it?”
“So when Mr. Lincoln sees me, be backs away like he isn’t interested anymore and goes inside. I checked on Ma and she was all flustered and mad, you know. I went back inside while she waited to cool off, hoping Mr. Lincoln would leave. But when she came back in, he was still there and at some point later, I saw him grabbing at her again, slapping her on the backside and giggling about it. And I…well, I just had enough. I stormed over to him and told him to get out. Got up in his face but never laid a hand on him. He yelled back at me, told me that no darkie was going to tell him what to do and if he wanted, he could make sure I lost my job. I started yelling back but then Tony came on over and broke it all up. And I swear, I think the only reason Mr. Lincoln walked away was because Tony told him he was ready to talk about selling the place. And boy, that did the trick. So he went to the back with Tony and that’s the last time I saw him alive.”
During his telling of the story, Ma had placed a hand on his shoulder. He reached up to pat it and then shrugged. “And that’s that.”
“But the story as we know it,” Frank said, “is that Carter Epps and Monty Lincoln were out in that alley when Monty died. You never saw him go back through the club?”
“No, sir.”
“And you never saw the altercation between Carter and Monty?” Ava asked.
“No, ma’am. I stayed busy fixing that toilet. Or trying to, anyway. But now, I heard them squabbling. All of us heard that. So I guess he got mad when he figured out Tony wasn’t going to sell and went back through. Probably just mad and wanting to yell at anyone he could that wouldn’t yell back if you ask me.”
Ava wanted to believe him and, based on solely this conversation, she was inclined to do so. But she also knew that someone in the mix was being dishonest, and it could just as easily be Leon as anyone else. The tricky bit was that even if they went to Tony and asked if Leon was being truthful, he could be lying, and they’d have no way of knowing for sure.
In other words, it really didn’t matter if Leon was telling the truth or a lie. Because either way, they had come to another dead end.