Frances Gossett’s head bobbed up and down. “I know of him, but I have never laid eyes on him. I think his mother lived here at one point. At least that’s what I heard. Contrary to what you might have heard about us old people, we do not gossip. No one talks about him. They just talk about Mr. Cricket.”

“How long have you lived here, Mrs. Gossett?”

“I moved here five years ago, after my husband Ralph died. I had to wait seven months for an available apartment.”

“How do you or the others get in touch with Lionel or his crew?” Maggie asked.

“We just call him, and someone shows up. Sometimes it’s Lionel, and sometimes it’s someone else. Lionel’s mama lives here in Building Three. That’s the building on the corner of Primrose Avenue and Lilac Lane.”

“What do you think happened here, Mrs. Gossett? Do you know what the tenants think? Was Mr. Cricket at the wrong place at the wrong time? Someone must have seen or heard something. We know there are gangs all about, but we were told Happy Village was off-limits even though it had once been gang-held territory. Do the Scorpions come out in broad daylight? Do you think they’re behind this?” Dennis asked all in one long, drawn-out breath.

Frances Gossett stopped stroking the purring cat to throw her arms in the air. “That’s just it, we don’t know. It’s as if we were all struck deaf, dumb, and blind that particular day. I wish it weren’t so, but I can’t change what happened. I will tell you this—everyone in this building meets up at the chapel every day at four o’clock to pray for Mr. Cricket.”

Maggie looked at Dennis, who just stared at her. His look said, I think we got all we’re going to get out of this lady. Maggie stood up and offered her hand to Frances Gossett. “I would appreciate it if you’d give me Lionel’s phone number, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, dear. I’m sure he’ll help you if he can. He’s studying to be a lawyer. Everyone in his group attends classes the casino owners pay for. At least that’s what I was told.” Sawdust jumped off her lap and raced out of the room. Frances got up and walked over to a small secretary, then rooted around until she found a small white card that had three inked-in phone numbers on it. “The top number is Lionel’s, the second one is Sula’s, and the third is Andy’s. All lovely young men. They all treat us like we’re their grandparents. It makes us feel safe. You can tell them I gave you the card. I have another one.”