Leetch folded his arms over his thick belly. “So, Chavon, did you happen to know Jimmy and Frige?”

“Everyone down here did,” Chavon said.

Leetch squinted at him. “Anyone you can think of who might have wanted to harm them?”

Chavon closed his eyes and chuckled. “Just about everyone.”

Leetch held out his palms. “Can you be a tad more specific?”

“Honey, I don’t know too many of us who pack heat.” He held up his tiny handbag. “Mine’s too small for a gun. Besides, it’s not very ladylike.”

“So who would be packing?”

“You should talk to Little Andrew.” Chavon shuddered dramatically, and stumbled. For a moment he looked as though he was going to tip over in his spike heels, but he recovered his balance awkwardly and straightened his miniskirt. “Andrew had a hate on for Jimmy like you wouldn’t believe.”

Cohen recognized the name of the dealer, though he had never met him before.

“Where can we find Andrew?” Leetch asked.

Chavon floated a hand in front of him, making small circles with his bent wrist. “Oh, he’s around, sugar. Just look for that white sports car of his. Porsche or whatever the fuck it is.”

“Chavon, we hear there’s a new supplier around,” Cohen spoke up. “A guy in a track suit with frosted highlights. Does that ring any bells?”

“Oh, the cutie pie talks,” Chavon squealed to Leetch. Then to Cohen, he said: “Sure I’ve seen him, baby. He was by here the other night.”

“Did he sell you anything?” Leetch asked.

“Sugar, I don’t buy drugs,” Chavon said with a giggle. “That’s illegal.”

“Chavon, you remember Carol Wilson?” Cohen asked.

He moved his head quickly from side to side and frowned. “What do you mean, do I remember her?” he said indignantly. “Carol’s my buddy.”

“She died yesterday,” Cohen said gently.

“Carol?” Chavon’s face crumpled into a grimace. His eyes misted over. “Carol’s dead?”

Cohen nodded. “We think it might have had something to do with the new guy.”

“Carol’s gone,” Chavon repeated through a heroin-induced haze. “Poor, poor Carol.” Then his eyes focused on Cohen as his words finally sunk in. “What did the guy do to her?”

“We’re not sure,” Cohen admitted. “But it would help if you can tell us whether he gave you any drugs.”

Chavon nodded. “Yeah, I saw him two or three nights ago. He gave me some junk. Called it a freebie or something. Said he would be around with more of the same to buy.”

“Have you seen him since?” Leetch asked.

“No,” Chavon said, looking as if even he was surprised by his answer.

“The sample he gave you, Chavon,” Cohen asked with a nod. “An eightball, right?”

Chavon nodded and readjusted his wig, setting it off kilter.

Cohen pointed at him with the knuckle of his finger. “How did you feel afterward?”