“T-Bone called me around six this morning. He’s a friend of Dre’s. They spar together sometimes.” She exhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t even know his real name. Everyone just calls him T-Bone. He said cops had been by the gym asking questions, and he said they found Dre…” She couldn’t finish.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Jack said.
She finally turned to face us. The grief in her eyes was raw and deep, the kind that settles into your bones and never fully leaves.
“I wanted to stay home today. Curl up in bed and never get out.” Her voice wavered. “But I can’t afford to miss work. And if I sit in the apartment by myself, I’m going to lose my mind. At least here I have something to do with my hands.”
I understood that. The need to move, to work, to stay busy rather than let the grief have room to breathe.
“Anything you can tell us might help us find who did this,” Jack said.
She sank into one of the plastic chairs like her legs had finally given out. I took the seat across from her.
“I don’t know. Who would want to hurt Dre?” She shook her head slowly. “He didn’t have enemies. He was kind and good and he worked so hard. Two jobs, training every day, sending money to his mama every month. He never complained. Just said it would all be worth it someday.”
“Tell us about his plans,” I said.
A small smile crossed her face. “He wanted to buy his mama a house. Get her out of that apartment. Crime has gotten real bad there, and he’s been worried about her. He talked about it all the time—what kind of house, what neighborhood, how he was going to surprise her with the keys.” The smile flickered. “He had it all planned out. Down to the color he was going to paint her front door. Yellow. Because she loves yellow.”
“That takes money,” Jack said carefully. “Did Dre have any bank accounts you know of? Anywhere he kept savings?”
“He banked at King George Trust before we met. That’s where his direct deposit goes from King Construction.” She paused. “He opened a savings account here a couple months ago—that’s how we met, actually. He came in to set it up, and I helped him. He asked me out right there at the window.” Her smile was sad and tears shimmered in her eyes.
“So he has accounts at both banks?”
“As far as I know. He said he liked to keep things separate. Checking at one place, savings at another.” She shrugged. “I thought it was just how he was raised. His mama probably taught him to spread things around.”
Or he was being smart about hiding money from different sources.
“What about storage units? Safe deposit boxes? Any other places he might have kept important things?”
Tiana’s brow furrowed. “No storage units. He didn’t have much stuff—just his apartment.” She paused, thinking. “He had a permanent locker at Fit24, but that’s just for extra gym clothes and workout shoes.”
“Fit24?”
“One of those twenty-four-hour gyms, over on Route 3 near the Walmart. He had a membership there for cardio—treadmills, bikes, that kind of thing. Said Iron House didn’t have good machines for that. He’d go a several times a week, usually before work on the days he wasn’t training.”
A separate gym. Away from Iron House. Away from Vic Caruso and whatever was happening there.
“Ms. Williams,” I said, “We found some things in Andre’s apartment. A significant amount of cash. And a betting slip.”
Her whole body went still. For a moment she didn’t speak.
“Tiana,” I said softly. “We’re here to find out who killed him. But we need to understand what he was involved in. Whoever did this to him deserves justice.”
Tiana stared at her hands for a long moment. When she looked up, her eyes were wet but steady.
“He told me once that construction money wasn’t enough. That he’d never be able to give his mama the life she deserved working for somebody else. Said he’d never be able to give me the life he wanted to if he didn’t make more.” She swallowed hard. “I asked what he was going to do about it. He just smiled and said he had a plan. Said he was going to fight his way to the top.”
“Did you know what that meant?”
“I thought it meant going pro. Getting a real boxing career.” She shook her head slowly. “But looking back…some things don’t add up. The hours he kept. The cash he always seemed to have. The way he’d come home some nights looking like he’d been through a war.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Thursday afternoon. He stopped by the bank on his lunch break, just to say hi. Kissed me right there at the window.” Tears spilled over, tracking down her cheeks. “Rita teased me about it for an hour. Said we were like teenagers.”
“How did he seem?”
