1am Sunday
T he Master Hosts Inn was a small, two-story motel frequented by prostitutes, strippers, drug smugglers, and married clubgoers. The Main Office was a small triangle on Bladensburg Road between two driveways that led up a hill and into the neighborhood. The 5th District Police Station was to the left and an Exxon gas station to the right. The back of the motel had a ramp that led down to New York Avenue, which led to I-95 - an interstate that heads north.
When they pulled up to the motel, Alexis stayed in the passenger seat. “I don't want to look...loose,” she said. “Get a room with two queen size beds, one for us to sleep in. Poolside! And a room with a balcony. I want to use the balcony.” Those were all things he would’ve never considered. He tried not to blush. He almost ran into the office to pay for the room. Alexis noticed the camera outside the door. She lowered her head.
Three two-story buildings wrapped around a small swimming pool. A parking lot closed the square. The only rooms with balconies were a few rooms on the second floor that faced the pool. Alexis had been to the motel enough times to know tourists were given the rooms in the 100 Building, closest to the lobby, and locals were housed in the back, in the 300 Building.
When Terrance came out of the office he had more testosterone than Michael Jordan leaving the Bulls’ locker room. He had a pocket full of money and he was spending it on the toys that important men enjoy. Inside the car he turned up the radio volume even though he was driving about 20 yards.
“What room did they give us?” she asked
“Three-forty-four,” he said.
He parked head-first and killed the engine. Alexis had to suppress a smile. She waited for him to open her door but he was oblivious. He walked around to the front of the car, lit a cigarette and waited for her. She rolled her eyes, opened the door and stepped out. Alexis handed him her overnight bag and through the matching purse over her shoulder. As she led Terrance to the 300 building, she texted “344.”
He lagged behind so he could admire her figure. Room 344 was in the middle of the hall. It was close to the stairs, it was poolside, it was perfect.
As soon as they were inside the room Terrance pounced. He grabbed her and shoved his tongue in her mouth before she could think. The taste of marijuana made her muscles tense. He sensed her reluctance and liked it. He smacked her ass and told her to sit down, then started unbuckling his belt.
“Slow down, baby” she said. “Do you want me to make you a drink?”
“Yeah, ok.”
He had forgotten about the bottles. Alexis set the liquor and cups on a small table. She grabbed a bucket and said, “I need to go get some ice.” He frowned then nodded. She smiled and he relaxed.
In the hallway, Alexis looked up and down the hall and the stairs. She walked down the hall slowly and took her time filling the bucket. She sighed when she had to go back in the room and closed the door with regret.
When she walked back in, Terrance was on the phone. She heard him give someone the room number and tell them to “hurry up.” She set the bucket on the table then fixed two drinks. She mixed rum’ and Coke over ice and handed one to Terrance.
“I want to take a shower,” she smiled. He watched her walk around the room. She grabbed her overnight bag and went into the bathroom. He rubbed his crotch and smiled.
Terrance rolled and smoked a blunt while he waited. He took his shirt off, paced, ordered a porno movie, and fixed another drink. He opened the screen doors and walked out onto the balcony. Terrance looked down on the small pool and the cheap deck chairs.
Alexis came out of the bathroom wearing a silk caftan that matched her heels, panties, and bra. She brought the liquor and ice bucket out to the balcony and placed them on the table. Terrance fixed himself another drink. The air was warm and the breeze was cool. They were watching the water in the swimming pool and admiring the stars. It was quiet enough to hear the tires of the few cars on the street.
Most of the rooms were dark inside. One television was on, inside a room on the ground floor in the 200 building. Terrance went inside to get a lighter. A car door opened in the parking lot. Alexis tried to see. Terrance came back with the lighter.
“Hey baby,” she said nervously.
Terrance looked toward the car in the parking lot. “You don't know my name, do you?”
“Say what?”
“This is a one-night thing, right?”
“That’s up to you, baby”
“Oh yeah, well, what's my name?”
She paused. “--I can't remember right now.”
“Right. You’re only here because Fats paid you. You think I'm the help. C’mon, let's get to it.” Terrance rose and left the balcony.
“Wait, baby relax…”
“Nah, ain't no “relax”. Get in here. I’ma show you I ain't the help.”
* * * * *
Melvin Johnson had followed the Mercedes from the club to the Chinese restaurant downtown and then to the motel in Northeast. When Terrance turned left into the motel, Melvin turned right into the KFC. He watched the boy go in and out of the Main Office from across the street. He watched him drive to the back of the motel and waited. A few minutes later he got a text from Fats Harrington: “344.”
Melvin drove across the street, to the back of the motel and parked by the pool, three spaces away from the Mercedes. The car was empty and no one was around. Melvin reached in his glove compartment and grabbed a pistol and a pair of black, latex gloves. He planned on knocking on the door. If the girl opened it great. Melvin was wearing a vest just in case the boy opened the door strapped.
Right before he got out of the car, he saw the boy walk out onto the balcony, alone. The sight of the man who killed his little brother made Melvin anxious. He wanted to run up and shoot him right then. He was worried if he missed or was spotted too soon the boy would be able to run back into the room.
Melvin checked his bullets. He was ready to put the dog down, and then the girl stepped out on to the balcony. He watched Terrance lean his head back as he blew smoke. He watched Terrance brag and sip cognac. He sat and watched them laugh, drink, and smoke for twenty minutes. Then the boy went into the room.
Alexis reached into the front pocket of her caftan and retrieved her room key. She flicked it over the balcony without a care. Melvin smiled. He opened the car door and the light came on inside the car. The boy came back on the balcony. Melvin ducked back in the car. He watched them for what felt like an hour but was only ten minutes. The boy grabbed the bottle of Hennessy and went back into the room.
She looked at Melvin and then followed Terrance. Melvin waited until she closed the screen door before he exited the truck. He walked past two cars in the lot, made a left, and passed three small rooms. There was a stairway in the middle of the building and then more rooms. The room key was easy to see in the grass. Melvin picked it up and took the stairs to the second floor.
He saw a prostitute in the hallway near the soda machine. She looked at him then decided she wasn’t thirsty anymore. She scurried into a room and Melvin continued. When he found Room 334, he put his ear to the door and listened. He heard Terrance giving instructions.
Melvin opened the door quietly but quickly. He saw Terrance standing over Alexis butt naked. His head was back, and his eyes were closed, but when he heard the door slam, he was startled. Terrance’s eyes bulged and he tried to say, “who” but Melvin had already crossed the room and gun-butted him in his mouth.
Terrance crashed into the wall, and before he could think, he had uttered something stupid. “Let me get my clothes on,” he said. Melvin grabbed the bottle of Hennessy and threw it at him. Melvin ducked, but when the bottle smashed the wall, shards of glass cut his back. Melvin ran across the room and punched him in his throat.
Terrance, completely flustered, screamed in pain. As he bent over vomiting he thought he knew he had a gun in the room but couldn't remember where. He had no idea who was attacking him, how he had gotten in the room, or why. He c
ould barely make sense of why Alexis was running to the bathroom. Melvin grabbed him and body slammed him.
The stocky guy wasn't wasting any time. Terrance saw his Timberland boot rev back before he kicked him hard in the kidneys. Before Terrance could adjust to the pain another punch rained down on his face. It felt like the man was gonna punch through him. He screamed, “What’s your problem?”
That made the man snatch him up. Two big hands clasped around his throat and he was lifted off of the ground. He outweighed Terrance by 100 pounds and easily slammed him into the wall. Terrance was gasping for air. The guy’s teeth were clenched and his eyes bulged when he said, “You killed my brother.”
Terrance was blacking out and he knew he was about to die. He blurted out his last enemy’s name. “Fats.”
Melvin stopped choking him. “What?”
Terrance doubled over. He gasped hard for oxygen. The room was spinning, and he saw dots. “What did you say?” Melvin said.
Terrance couldn’t think. He was naked and confused. The big guy pulled out a pistol. Terrance ran to the balcony and jumped over the rail.
The pain in his ankle was sharp. He rolled over and saw his attacker looking down from the balcony. The man ran back into the room and Terrance knew he had only seconds to get up and run. He tried but his right ankle refused. He was on his knees. He looked over his shoulder and saw Alexis standing on the balcony. He started to yell for help but noticed she was calm, smirking.
Terrance collapsed on the ground in pain. Melvin raced down the stairs. Alexis went back into the room, picked up Terrance's pants, rifled through the pockets, and found the cash Fats had given him.
Terrance tried again to get up, but his right ankle was broken and couldn’t support his weight. He hopped on one leg to the fence of the pool. He leaned against it and tried to gather his thoughts. Melvin had reached the bottom of the stairs and was walking toward him. Terrance climbed over the pool fence.
When he landed on the pool deck he winced in pain. Melvin smiled. He slowly walked to the gate of the fence and unlocked its entrance. Terrance was on his knees between two lawn chairs. He held out a hand and begged. “Please man. I didn’t do it.”
Melvin reached in his waist and pulled out a .357 snub nose. Terrance got up and hopped to the edge of the pool then jumped in.
Terrance thought he was jumping into the shallow end of the pool. He didn’t have time to look and make certain. He didn't care. He just wanted to get away from Melvin’s gun. When his foot didn't touch the bottom, he panicked. He felt around wildly for the bottom - Nothing. He went under and swallowed water. He flailed his arms and his face broke the surface. He gasped for air before going under again. He kicked his feet and waved his arms around but couldn’t stay afloat. His head bobbed under and from underwater he could see Melvin’s silhouette. He tried to yell for help but he swallowed more water.
Melvin put his pistol back in his waistband and watched.
Upstairs, Alexis walked out of the bathroom wearing a blonde wig, dark shades, a white blouse, tan slacks, and black shoes. A car was waiting for her in the parking lot. One of the guys from the club gave her an envelope with $400 and a ride home.
When Terrance stopped struggling and succumbed, Melvin Johnson walked to his car, put his gloves and pistol back in the glove box and stared at Terrance’s floating body. He smoked a cigarette and listened to “Holding On (When Love is Gone)” by LTD then drove out of the motel parking lot onto I-295 and headed for New York City. His DNA wasn’t on anything and there were no cameras.
* * * * *
Detective Melissa Taylor dropped Christopher Aiden off at his apartment. He went into the building, checked his mailbox, and came right back out. He walked two blocks, past his old high school, and to the Florida Avenue Grille. It was 4:34am. He thought about how, in a few hours, his kids would be in Sunday School learning about a time before guns, before cocaine, and before designer clothes. In fact, the only thing a man from the Bible might recognize in this breakfast spot were the prostitutes. A tiny diner, Florida Avenue Grille is billed as “the world’s oldest soul food restaurant,” and Aiden was one of its oldest customers.
He passed the restaurant, turned into its parking lot, and slipped into the front passenger seat of a waiting Cadillac Seville. Petey sat in the driver’s seat listening to “Holding On” by LTD on the radio.
“Hey fat boy,” Aiden said.
“What’s up, Uncle Chris”
“I see you poppin bottles in the club...”
“Go ‘head man. It’s the job,” Petey said with a big smile.
“Oh, I know. Just doin’ your job, right,” Aiden smiled. He reached over and touched the Presidential Rolex on Petey’s wrist.
“Gotta look the part.”
Petey’s real name was Officer Renaldo Hill. He was a second-generation cop and Aiden’s godson. His dad was the second-in-command at the 7th District precinct and Aiden’s former partner. As a patrolman, Renaldo had earned a reputation as a tough kid who was honest enough. After two years on the street, he was promoted to the Vice Squad. He had been undercover for four years. The streets knew him as Petey Paul. He posed as a heroin dealer from Baltimore who owned a used car lot. Petey regularly let dealers use his cars to commit crimes because the cars were all illegally wired.
“How’s your dad?”
“You see him more than me”
“Then you're doing your job right. Who are you in that club watching?” Aiden asked.
“The owner.”
“Fats Harrington?”
“Yeah. I’ve been on him for two years now and nothing so far. Not a dime bag.”
“Is he dirty?”
“Absolutely. He’s just too smart to be in the same room with the coke or the cash. The most I have on him is conspiracy so far, but I know my captain wants to take that nightclub.”
“I bet. I caught a body this morning and I keep hearing Fats Harrington’s name on it.”
“That’s why that guy was following him through the club tonight?”
“Brooks? He’s an idiot.”
“But you like Fats Harrington for a murder?”
“Not like he did it himself. He may have hired someone to do it,” Aiden said.
“Doubt it. Like I said, he’s too smart. He’s a non-violent kingpin. If he had bodies in the street, I’d be able to catch him.Who is the body?”
“Six Hands Johnson.”
“What? Hey, you know what, I saw Fats Harrington right after that boy was shot and he was acting funny.”
“Oh yea?”
“Yeah, like he seemed surprised...not surprised that Six Hands was shot...it seemed like he was surprised that someone else didn't get shot.”
“What?”
“Yeah, you know a character named Blinds?”
“Of course.”
“Ok, I see him at the crap games all the time, but I never saw a connection between him and Fats Harrington. Then, a few weeks ago Blinds was caught trying to smuggle two bricks of coke into National Airport. I’m not sure that work belonged to Fats Harrington but Blinds came to my basketball game looking for Harrington right after the barbershop shooting. When he couldn’t find Harrington, he left.”
“Okay.”
“When Harrington showed up and I told him about Six Hands Johnson being shot and he was surprised, right? But he was more surprised that Blinds was alive.”
“What?”
“Yea, Blinds told me about the barbershop shooting because he was there. He was in the chair right before Six Hands”.
“I know.”
“Harrington seemed to know that, too. He specifically asked me if Blinds had been shot. He never asked who shot Six Hands.”
“What if I told you, Blinds was the target and the shooter shot the wrong person?” Aiden asked.
“What?”
“Does it make sense that Fats Harrington paid someone to kill Blinds and Six Hands just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time
?”
“What kind of trifling shooter shoots the wrong person?”
“Blinds had been sitting in Moochie’s chair. The shooter either walks by and sees him or...gets a signal from someone in the barbershop...then Moochie tells Blinds to get out of the chair for Six Hands...that's how the killer ends up shooting the wrong person. Just a theory. It may be crazy.”
“Aiden, that makes sense.”
Chapter 15: A floater
2:30am Sunday
T he officers who responded to the hotel immediately recognized Terrance Stone from the sketch Brooks had sent out. They called the detective and told him his shooter was floating in a hotel pool on Bladensburg Road. It took Brooks five minutes to drive from Big Boys to the Master Host Inn Hotel.
Flanked by the motel manager and the two patrolmen, he stood on the deck of the swimming pool. Terrance Stone’s body was lying supine on the concrete. A crowd of motel guests started congregating in groups around the pool’s gate, whispering questions and making assumptions. Even the sun was peeking over the horizon to get an early look at DC’s latest murder victim.
“You fished him out?” Brooks asked.
“Yes,” said Officer. Jones. His uniform was soaking wet.
“And?”
“He was unresponsive; no heartbeat, no breathing,” he said.
“Who found him?”
“The security guard makes rounds every two hours,” Officer Jones said. “He found the floater at 6am”.
Brooks looked at the motel manager. “Was he a guest?”
“Yes, sir,” the manager said. “He had just checked in this morning.”
“Alone?”
“No, there was a woman.”
“Knee high boots, short black skirt?”
“I couldn’t see her.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “We get jealous husbands all the time. I mean, this isn't the first time a guy ran outta a room naked, but this is the first time a naked dude drowned.”
“This wasn't a jealous husband,” Brooks laughed. “Can I see your video surveillance footage?”
“Sure.”
Killing a Snitch: The first of the Christopher Aiden Mysteries Page 15
