Then my phone rang and I saw it was my brother, Natty.

I thought about ignoring the call. Now wasn’t the time and Natty wasn’t the person I wanted to talk to. I hate to confess it, but the scene made me really want to call my mom.

But guilt got the better of me and I answered the phone, “Hey, what’s up?”

“I never thought I’d say this, but I need your help. I need your private investigator skills.”

My brother wasn’t much for compliments. I was skeptical and knew my brother could be a jackass. I always had to be on the lookout for pranks.

I said, “What kind of case?”

“A homicide. I’m not kidding, Mitchum, I need your help right now.”

I looked up at Edith and her daughter, who were chatting like family should, and told Natty, “I’m on my way.”

If there was one thing I knew about my brother, it was that he had a knack for making mistakes. And it seemed like this one was deadly.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I DIDN’T GENERALLY look forward to seeing my brother at his place of business in Newburgh, about twenty-five minutes south of Marlboro. He worked out of a bar called the State of Mind Tavern that didn’t seem to ever close. It was a dingy, one-story building that spanned a full block, with the parking lot on one side and a busy, industrial street on the other.

As I pulled my beat-up station wagon into the lot, I saw my brother standing by the back door talking to two other men. My brother is two years older than me and thin as a rail, mostly from a life of cigarettes, skipped meals, and little sleep. Despite resembling a sickly marathon runner, he’s surprisingly tough. My theory is it has something to do with being a minor-league dope dealer in a tough town like Newburgh.

At the moment, though, he looked like he might be overmatched as he exchanged angry words with two guys. One was built like him and the other was a Hispanic guy who obviously spent way too much time in the gym; he had arms like legs.

I walked up casually, not wanting to give away my intentions. But I knew it might annoy my brother that I didn’t look worried.

The big man turned and saw me and waved me toward the back door of the bar, saying, “Move on. This has nothing to do with you.”

I noticed my brother had a bloody lip and a red splotch across his left cheek. That pissed me off. Generally, I was the only one allowed to pound on my brother once in a while.

I said, “Everything all right, Natty?”

“Does it look like everything’s all right?”

I admired my brother’s bravado in the face of adversity.