You unnerstand what I'm sayin'?"

“So far.” Sampson nodded. He was trying to be nice, actually, A head of lettuce could follow Alvin Jackson's patter.

“You want to show us what you got?” I asked him. “Help us out here?”

“I'll show you Chucky myself. Howzat?” He smiled and nodded at me. “But only cuz it's you and Sampson. I tried to tell some a them other detectives, months back. They wouldn't have none of it. Man, they wouldn't listen to jack shit. Didn't have the time of day for my airplay.”

I felt like his father or uncle or older brother. I felt responsible.

I didn't like it so much.

“Well, we're listening,” I told him. “We've got the time for you.”

Sampson and I went with Alvin Jackson to the Northfield Village projects. Northfield is one of the most dangerous crime areas in D.C. Nobody seems to care, though. The 1st District police have given up. You visit Northfield once, it's hard to blame them completely, This didn't seem like a very promising lead to me. But Alvin.Jackson was a man on a mission. I wondered why that was. What was I missing here?

He pointed a long, accusatory finger at one of the yellow-brick buildings. It was in the same shabby state of disrepair as most of the others. An electric-blue metal sign was over the double front doors: BULI)L6 3. The front stairs were cracked and looked as if they'd been hit by lightning or somebody's sledgehammer.

"He lives in there. Ak-ak city. Leastways, he did. Name's Emmanuel Perez. Sometimes he works as a porter at Famous.

You know, Famous Pizza? He goes after the little kids, man. Real freakazoid. He's a nasty fucker. Scary fucker, too. Don't like it none when you call him Manny, He's Ee-man-uel. Insists on it."

“How do you know Emmanuel?” Sampson asked.

Alvin Jackson's eyes suddenly clouded over and looked hard as rocks. He took a few seconds before he spoke. "I knew him.