CHAPTER TWENTY
The motivation and inadvertent encouragement from Lottie was much needed, but it still did nothing to point Ava in any given direction. The records Lottie had indicated were upstairs had all come to dead ends, netting absolutely nothing that would help with the case. All she found were the details of petty arguments between spoiled, rich men. In fact, when Ava left the precinct through the back door, she had absolutely no idea where she needed to go. It was 10:20, giving her less than seven hours to figure out who the killer was. Seven more hours before the innocent Carter Epps went to prison for something he didn’t do.
But where to start? Frank was speaking with Carter and hopefully something would come out of that. As for her, she wasn’t sure what new angle to take. She supposed she could go back to the scene of the crime, once again poking her head into the Candle’s Wick. But the mere idea of it made her feel like she was simply treading water and delaying the inevitable. No, she had to do something proactive, not just hope to stumble into something.
She’d been walking for ten minutes as she tried to sort it all out. When she realized that she was headed in the direction of her father’s gym, she wasn’t all that surprised. Ever since she was a teenager, the boxing gym had been a place of rescue and safety for her, a place where she could find herself and feel grounded—a place where the world made sense and the pounding and bags and gloves were like the beating of a large, gentle heart.
When she got older, that place of safety and shelter had become Clarence. And now that he was gone, none of it truly fit. She’d put the gym behind her, much like her singing, and now the only place that felt right and comfortable was her job as a detective—and even that seemed to have some slippery footing. She supposed it was good to have so many places she’d once considered familiar, but there was also something simple and safe about the sense of coming home.
And that’s exactly how she felt when, as if directed by some unseen and divine hand, she found herself standing in front of her father’s gym. Naturally, there would be no answers about the case to be found inside, but she was just hopeful enough to believe she might be able to find something almost as good—insight, a new direction.
When she stepped inside, the smells hit her like something baking in an oven. It was peculiar, because the smells of a boxing gym were not appetizing at all. Sweat, dust, rubber, and something that had always reminded her faintly of copper. There were only two people working the floors; one was on the smaller bags in the back while another was working on his footwork by a dirty mirror in the back.
She spotted her father sitting on the edge of one of the rings, keeping an eye on both of them. Ava slowly made her way over and took a seat next to him.
“What a surprise,” Roosevelt said. “You on a break or something?”
“Not exactly. I’m working this really rushed case and I’m finding myself at a dead end and I’m not sure where to turn. My feet—and I guess maybe my heart, too—seemed to think I needed to come here.”
“Need to put on some gloves and beat up a bag for a while?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Maybe spar with one of these chumps?” he asked, nodding to the two young men on the floor.
The idea of sparring made something leap inside of her and any other day, she may have taken him up on the offer. But right now, she simply didn’t have time. Her hands, though, suddenly ached for the feel of a pair of gloves around them.
“Some other time for sure,” she said. “I just…I don’t have the time right now.”
“Well, you know you’re welcome here anytime, Ava. But if you didn’t come to hit something, why are you here?”
“I needed to clear my head. And the gym has always helped with that.”
“See, now you’re preaching to the choir.” They both watched the two men work for a moment before Roosevelt then asked: “You need to talk something out with your old man?”
She wasn’t even sure where to start, but that had never stopped her when it came to her father. As she started talking, it was almost as if she were processing it all for the first time. “An innocent man is going to go to prison unless I can find a murderer by the end of the day.”
Roosevelt seemed at odds with how to respond for a moment. After a few seconds, he settled on: “Well, that seems like an awful lot of pressure. Do you not have any leads?”
“Not really. There have been a few, but none of them panned out. I almost feel like I need to start over. But I really don’t have time for that.”
“I wish I had a detective’s mind,” he said with a grin. “It must be amazing to see the world the way you do. So perceptive and always looking for an answer.”
“Yeah, that sums it up.”
“I hate to be the father that can’t offer anything useful, but…well, I wouldn’t even know how to start looking for someone in this city. There are just so many people, and so many places. I don’t know how anyone can makes heads or tails of where they’re going. You mind me asking what part of the city you’re looking at?”
“Harlem.”
“Ah, I see. Nice to know the police are actually trying to keep things peaceful out there.”
“That’s the thing…there aren’t many. There aren’t many other cops that would tackle this case I’m on right now.”
“Is that because they don’t see it as part of their neighborhood?”
“Partly, yes. I think so, anyway.”
Roosevelt frowned. Working with boxers, he’d had a few black students. As far as she knew, her father had never been racist or prejudiced. He’d always looked down on those who thought they were better than others because of their heritage or the color of their skin.