she asked as he pulled his car out of the hotel parking lot.
“We need to stop by a house party not far from here. No time like the present to introduce you to some of the South Side’s criminal element.”
“So does it live up to its reputation?”
“If you’re asking me whether or not the South Side of Chicago is the dregs of hell like the media has made it out to be, then the answer is no. Those of us who live here actually love it. The diverse neighborhoods that make up our side of town are one of our city’s best-kept secrets. And trust me, Lincoln Park and Wicker Park are a hell of a lot scarier between the hours of midnight and six. We also have Harold’s, and they have the best fried chicken around.”
Danni smiled. “How’s the shopping?”
“You’ll get your best deals on Eighty-Seventh and Dan Ryan. White socks and T-shirts, candy, soda pop and bootleg movies are all cheap.”
“Good to know!”
* * *
Stalled in traffic, they fell into a quiet reverie. Armstrong gave her a look as she sat staring out the window. He really liked her. Despite his best efforts not to feel anything at all for her. He found himself drawn to her spirit. She had an energy that he rarely found in the women he dealt with. She wasn’t fawning over him like he was the biggest prize at the state fair. She didn’t wear an air of desperation like some women, wanting a husband and kids before plucking the first strand of gray hair. She had a keen sense of humor, and in their line of work one was necessary. He also appreciated that she didn’t seem to be easily frazzled, her nerves seeming as steady as a rock. If he was going to have a partner, he needed to trust that she had his back, that he didn’t have to worry about a crash and burn when he least expected one. Danni seemed up to the task, and he was willing to give her a chance. Clearly, they had made significant progress since that morning and their first meeting.
Danni interrupted his thoughts. “So, tell me more about this house party.”
“It’s at the home of Miss Nanette Perry. She’s a fixture in the neighborhood, the community mother. Everybody knows and loves her. When she needs to pay her mortgage, she’ll cook, throw a party and sell plates. And the woman can cook! She’ll also feed the hungry if they come through and don’t have any money. Her home is considered neutral ground for the gangs, and at any given time you don’t know who you might run into. The lowest of the city’s downtrodden and Chicago’s most elite have dined together at her table. If there is anyone who knows who Pius is, Miss Perry will know.”
Danni nodded. “I look forward to meeting her.”
* * *
A series of turns and two traffic lights later, Armstrong pulled into an open space at the end of West Twenty-First Place. The homes were older brick row houses lining the length of the street. Parking came at a premium, and it was by the luck of the draw that the space became empty as they turned the corner.
Danni paused for a split second as he exited the driver’s side, and then she pushed open her own door and stepped out. Armstrong gave her a look, his eyebrows raised.
“In case anyone is watching,” she muttered, her head tilted toward the men gathered on the front porch a few doors down. “I assume someone may know you’re a cop, but they don’t need to know that I am.”
Armstrong nodded. As he sauntered past her, she noticed his attire for the first time. He wore denim jeans that fit him snugly through the hips, accentuating his backside. Beneath a wool and leather varsity jacket he wore a long-sleeved hooded T-shirt. The newest Jordan sneakers adorned his feet.
As he passed her, he pulled the hood up over his head and moved toward the home, where a crowd was coming and going through the front doors. Some carried foil-covered paper plates out, while others were bringing bottles in brown paper bags in. There were a few individuals who seemed to be moving with a sense of urgency. But most seemed glad to just relax in the moment.
Danni followed Armstrong, who moved swiftly up the flight of stairs to the front porch. He gave the men gathered there a nod as he pounded fists with one or two of them. Their gazes skated over her briefly, then the men returned to the conversation they were having. No one spoke, so neither did she. Danni pushed her hands into her pants pockets, painting her expression with indifference.
Inside, the noise level rose substantially, a wealth of chatter vibrating off the walls of the small home. Music played out of an old stereo, the deep bass of some old-school R&B song ringing through the air. Standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, an older woman called out Armstrong’s name.
“Detective Black, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” Miss Nanette Perry asked.
It looked like she was floating on air as she moved toward them, Danni thought. She was tall, with a copper complexion, hazel eyes and a blond buzz cut. She brought to mind what Danni imagined an Amazonian queen might look like. She was beautiful, and there was something very romantic about the air around her. She made people smile, and her gregarious personality served to punctuate her sharp intuition and razor-sharp tongue. She reached Armstrong’s side, throwing her arms around him in a deep bear hug as she kissed his cheek.
“I heard you had some fried chicken,” he answered as he hugged her back.
“Fried chicken, collards, mac and cheese, potato salad and some candied yams, baby! You plan to eat it here, or you want it to go?”
“I actually need two plates,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder toward Danni. “And we’ll have a seat so you and I can catch up.”
“That sounds like you want something, sunshine!”
“Something,” he answered.
Miss Nanette nodded. For a brief moment it seemed as if she were sizing him up, as if such was necessary. “How is that handsome father of yours?” she suddenly asked.
Armstrong smiled. Amusement danced across his face, and Danni sensed there was something in the older woman’s question that only they understood. Armstrong finally answered. “He’s doing very well. And so is my mother. She’s good, too!”
Miss Nanette laughed heartily and winked an eye at the man. She shifted her attention toward Danni. “What have I told you about picking up strays? Whose child is this?”
Armstrong shrugged. “Don’t let her fool you, Miss Nanette. She’s not as young as she looks.”
Miss Nanette’s eyes narrowed as she studied Danni intently. Her head bobbed ever so slightly before she spoke. “She’s too skinny. We’ll need to put some weight on her. Looks like she might blow away if the wind picked up.”
* * *
Danni smiled, a slight bend to her lips that Armstrong found beguiling. “I like your music,” she said, her voice soft like spun cotton.
Miss Nanette smiled back. “You’ll like my cooking more.” She led them to the dining room, shooing three boys out of their seats. “Sit down and make yourselves comfortable. You want corn bread or a yeast roll?”
“Corn bread,” Danni said.
“Yeast roll,” Armstrong answered.
Miss
