Trigger

by David Swinson

  She walks to the side entrance area of McDonald’s, turns to scan the parking lot. I tuck down. She pulls a pack of smokes out of her jacket pocket, taps one out and lights it with a pink Bic lighter. She smiles at a couple of knuckleheads wearing lowrider jeans and nothing but T-shirts as they walk in the side entrance to McDonald’s. They both tip their heads toward her and smile back, look at her backside through the window once they’re inside.

  Now I know. But I still don’t know enough. Like who the fuck is waiting in the car while she’s standing there waiting for the fictional Idris?

  It doesn’t take me long to figure out what needs to be done. Now might be my only chance. I roll up the window, turn off the car, and cautiously step out, walk to the sidewalk on the Barry side, toward Georgia. I keep my body low, my head turned away from her view, which isn’t that close, but still she could recognize me. I hold my overcoat at the collar with my right hand, clutching it closed, like I’m cold and that’s why I’m tucking my head down.

  I pass the SUV, hesitate to peer in because they might know me. I quickly walk by, turn right on Georgia, and then go to the front entrance of the McDonald’s.

  I look out the side window. Darling is still standing there, patiently waiting. Fucking dirty snake. Never thought about smacking a girl—well, maybe once—but now I want to for sure. There’s a small line at the order counter. I stand behind a cute college girl shouldering a book bag. I keep my eye on Darling, and when my turn comes around, I order a coffee.

  “Anything else with that?”

  “Just coffee, thanks.”

  I exit using the side door. When I step out, Tamie turns to me. I try to look as surprised as she does.

  “Tamie?”

  “Frankie.”

  “What are you doing standing out here in the cold?”

  Doesn’t even take her a second. “Waiting on a blind date, sweetie.”

  “A blind date at McDonald’s? You can do better than that.”

  “C’mon, now, Frankie. It’s just a meeting place.”

  “Blind date? It ain’t Luna, right?” I play her.

  “You know better than to ask that.”

  “I must say, Tamie, you really got yourself together. Real good.”

  “Why, thank you, sweetie.”

  “So, I’m spoiling your action by standing here talking to you?” I say, and have a sip of coffee.

  “Yeah, I’d say you are.”

  “Sorry. Wouldn’t want to do that, but I’m afraid I’ll have to.”

  Looks at me, tilting her head sideways.

  “Idris is gonna be a no-show, sweetheart.”

  She steps back, looks toward the SUV.

  “You fucking asshole,” she says, not sounding so sweet anymore.

  A big guy steps out of the driver’s seat. He looks to be about my age. He shuts the door behind him and looks our way, like he’s waiting for orders.

  “That your blind date?”

  “What did you do, Frankie?”

  “I did my job, Darling. What the fuck did you do?”

  The big man starts walking toward us. Tamie stretches her arm out, hand open in a stopping motion.

  He obeys, stops in the middle of the parking lot.

  “You and I need to take a drive, Darling.”

  “I don’t think I can do that today, Frankie.”

  “Don’t let this go sideways, Tamie. It’s only gonna be you that’ll suffer.”

  “It ain’t what you think.”

  She playing me for a fool?

  All I can do is smile.

  “We’re going to take a walk to my car, have a talk. Tell your boy to stand down and have some more of whatever it is he’s been smoking, but back in the car he came out of.”

  “I can’t do that, Frankie.”

  She walks away from me, toward her body man.

  I follow closely behind, stop her by the arms when she’s a couple feet away from him. He steps up to me. Without hesitation, I sidekick him hard on the right knee. When he buckles, I hit him with the side of my right hand on his jaw near his ear. He falls hard.

  “What the fuck did you do, Frankie?”

  “Let’s go.”

  “You okay there, sweet pea?” one of the knuckleheads with lowriding jeans says. He’s holding a milkshake with a straw. Knucklehead two is by his side.

  Sweet pea?

  “Ain’t nothin’ but a lover’s spat, doll. Thank you.”

  I keep my eyes on them. They look at me hard but continue on their way.

  “I can’t just leave him there,” she says.

  He moves, trying to roll to his back. Moans.

  “Cops are gonna be here any second. They’ll take care of him.”

  “He has a gun. Don’t let him go to jail.”

  I lean down again, grab the Sig Sauer he has wedged in the front area of his pants. I look around. There’s a few onlookers, so I try to be discreet. Fucking surveillance cameras, too. My car is far enough away that, with any luck, all they’ll get is a description and not the tag.

  She notices what I’m looking at and says, “He ain’t going to make a police report about this, so you don’t have to worry yourself.”

  “Let’s go,” I tell her.

  She struggles, but only a little. She thinks she knows me well enough that I won’t hurt her. I don’t know, though.

  I open the front passenger door for her.

  “Hold on,” I tell her before she gets in the car.

  I squeeze the pocket areas of her parka and around her waist.

  “I ain’t stupid, Frankie. You never had to check me like that before.”

  “It ain’t the same as before. Get in.”

  She steps in with some attitude. I close the door for her.

  I walk to the driver’s side. People are gathered in the lot, looking at me like I’m her pimp or some shit. I start the car, drop the gun inside the backpack behind my seat. When I pull the car out, I notice the muscle trying to push himself up from the cold pavement.

  Sixty-Two

  Put your seat belt on,” I say.

  She does.

  I take a quick left on the narrow road, more like an alley, behind McDonald’s. It stretches from Barry Place to V Street, where the 9:30 Club is. I hear a siren close by as I near V. I make another quick right and then a left, heading back toward Barry, the way we came, and barely make the green light to pass Barry.

  “Where are we going?” she asks.

  “What used to be our favorite spot.”

  “Why’d you have to hit him like that?”

  “He stepped up to me.”

  “He wouldn’t of done anything unless I told him to.”

  “I wasn’t about to take that chance. You’re not the same person I once knew.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I turn into the construction lot where Al shot Arthur Taylor, park between the two detached semitrailers. I keep the engine running, roll down my window and light a smoke.

  “Why are you bringing me here?”

  “Isn’t this where it all began?” I look at her, throw her a slight, knowing smile. “What the hell did you do, Tamie?” But before she can answer—“Why did you set Al up?”

  “I didn’t. Why would I mess up a good thing?”

  “You mean a good source of information?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  “You been playing both sides. For how long?”

  She taps a cigarette out of her pack, lights it.

  “Window,” I say.

  She rolls it down halfway.

  “All this time I believed you got yourself healthy because you got smart.”

  “I did. I got smart.”

  “Yeah, you were smart, playing us. Using the information we gave you as a trusted CI for your own personal gain.”

  “That ain’t true.”

  “Then how the fuck did you get a number for Idris unless you memorized it?
What, you were going to rob him of his stash? You got your own drug-dealing network now?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  “How many other targets of mine did you get to? How does it even work? You get that piece of muscle and a few other crew boys and start taking over shit based on the information you get from us? Damn, you think you’re Elektra or something?”

  I keep Ty and Marlon to myself for now. Don’t want to give up everything I know. Then she really won’t have anything to talk about.

  “You know if Idris was real, what kind of danger you could have put me in?”

  “I never would have let that happen.”

  “Oh, you have that kind of power now? Fucking tell me something, Tamie.”

  She looks at me. I’ve known her for a lot of years. Granted, we used the hell out of her, didn’t give a shit that she was smoking up all that crack because it was good motivation for her. But still…

  “I got a bigger taste for money than crack. Sure as hell wasn’t making enough working for you all. In fact, you and Al are mostly responsible for making me who I am today. In fact, I should be grateful.”

  “Don’t pull that shit on me. You cleaned up nice. You could have got yourself a real job.”

  “What? Retail? McDonald’s? Make myself less than minimum wage? Fuck you, Frankie Marr.”

  “You broke the cardinal rule as a paid CI. In fact, you could find yourself in jail, not for what you did to me as a PI, but what you did to Al, ’cause he’s law enforcement. You remember what you signed?”

  “I never did anything that could come back to Al, or even you. You know if Idris was real, he’d know nothin’ about you until you made yourself known.”

  “But you don’t know that I didn’t make myself known. That’d make me a possible target.”

  “I knew. It was all in the way you presented it to me when you wanted me to call your snitch boyfriend.”

  I almost slap her. She flinches. I back off, close my eyes for a second. I don’t do that kinda shit.

  “You want to beat me down, Frankie? You think I’m your property?”

  “No, I…don’t fucking turn this shit around. You know, it doesn’t matter, Tamie. You fucked up bad. And don’t try to lie your way out of this one. I know you know Arthur Taylor. Why you think I’d waste my time trying to set you up if I didn’t already know that? I just wouldn’t work with you again. But this is Al we’re talking about. Why would Arthur Taylor be at this lot at the same time as you and Al were meeting if you had nothing to do with it?”

  “You ain’t going to believe me if I tell you.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I didn’t know. That’s the truth. But I sure been trying to find out, ’cause it makes no sense.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe you?”

  “Yeah.”

  I know she knows Ty and Marlon, and now Arthur. First spotted her at the old brothel at 17th and Euclid, so I know she also somehow worked her way in with Cordell’s crew. Can’t even guess how the fuck she accomplished that. Unless Cordell is a part of it. I realize now it was a good idea I didn’t let Calvin come with me.

  She flicks her smoke out the window. That’s when I notice it’s starting to snow. A light flurry.

  She rolls the window up.

  “You honestly gonna tell me you didn’t know one of your boys was there?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. And he wasn’t one of my boys. He wanted to be, though.”

  “But he hung out with your boys.”

  “That he did.”

  “How do I know you weren’t setting Al up to get killed and when it went wrong you were already there, hiding behind one of these construction trucks? Maybe it was you who took the gun from the scene.”

  “No!”

  That was anger.

  “Al used me and I used him. Fair trade, far as I’m concerned. Besides, I like him. He’s funny. And like I said, I was careful not to use any kinda information I got that would get back to him or maybe get him hurt. Same with you.”

  She’s full of shit.

  “How can we fix this, Frankie?”

  “I don’t have to fix anything.”

  “You want some of what Al’s getting? Maybe more?”

  “Fuck you.”

  She’s too tough to be offended.

  “Al’s got a subpoena to give up your information so that an Internal Affairs detective can interview you.”

  “Hell no.”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly what Al said. Protecting your ass. But he doesn’t know what I know now. And he won’t, and IA won’t either, if you do what I say.”

  “Tell me, then.”

  “Simple—you let the detective interview you about why you and Al were here, because he was talking to you about a crack house he wanted to work you in. Nothing about your sexual exploits with him. I hear you mention that, game over for you, not only with the police, but with your little crew. You just tell the detective what you told me when we first talked, that after you left and were a few blocks away, you heard the gunshots. That’s all you gotta do. For Al, anyway. Me, that’s gonna be a different matter.”

  “Oh, I got to work this shit off with you now?”

  “Darling, do I have to say it again—how bad you fucked up?”

  “You just said it again.”

  “You don’t mention anything about knowing Arthur Taylor to the police. That’ll get both you and Al fucked. You are going to find out why he was here, though, and who was here with him, ’cause I believe my friend. I believe the kid had a gun; otherwise he’d be alive right now. Someone in your crew knows. You do that for me and we’re clear. But it can’t be some made-up shit. I’ll know if it is.”

  “I still say it’d be more fun if we work it out the other way.”

  “You need to take this seriously, Tamie. We’ve known each other for a long time, so I’m sure you know how bad I can fuck up your life.”

  “Yes, I know, Frankie.”

  “And as far as the boys you work with now, you can’t trust any of them.”

  “I can trust the man you beat down.”

  “You can’t trust anyone, and I didn’t beat him down, ’cause he’d never get up if I did.”

  “Can I get his gun back?”

  I reach behind my seat, grab the pellet pistol I got off the crackhead who tried to rob me and Calvin. Don’t think she’ll know the difference.

  I hand it over to her. She takes it and slips it in a nylon pocket of her jacket.

  She hasn’t learned anything.

  Sixty-Three

  More than flurries coming down now. Far from a snowstorm, but it should leave an inch or two if the ground’s cold enough.

  Tamie is sitting comfortably in the front passenger seat, just like we’re getting ready to do an okeydoke. No sign of worry at all. Is she that good?

  “So, tell me, how did you work your way in? Was it through Cordell, while he was still in prison, or one of his lieutenants who took over?”

  “Cordell?” she asks, trying to look convincing and like she doesn’t know who I’m talking about.

  “Cordell Holm. You remember him, right? When I was looking for that missing teenage girl?”

  “Oh, yes. But what makes you think I’m doing something with him?”

  “I know about you at the house on Seventeenth and Euclid. Tamie, no more shit. I know more than you think, so be careful, now.”

  I won’t give up Queen Street. For all I know, that’s her new house. A safe house or a stash house. I want her to feel comfortable with still going there.

  “How long you known Cordell?”

  “A little over two years,” she says too easily.

  “You got to him through me, then?”

  Taps out another cigarette, rolls down the window, then lights it up.

  “You know that whole thing became Al’s case after me, right?” I say.

  “Cordell was already charged and in jail, just waiting to be sentence
d. I’d be visiting Al at his house and listen to him talking on the phone about the case. A prosecutor, I think.”

  “All the players, locations, shit like that?”

  “Yes. Then it was just a matter of working myself in, getting an introduction.”

  “And how did you manage that?”

  “Frankie, this is not me being your special employee no more. So what you need to know all this other shit for? You ain’t been the police for a long time.”

  “Because you owe me the information. Simple as that. I could give a shit that you’re some sort of queen bee running things out there. Keep doing what you do. I don’t care. I need to know how fucked this is and how to fix it if I have to.” Her lips tighten. She’s frustrated now. “Was it that dude I had you call—what’s his name? Playboy? Remember him?”

  “Yes, I remember him, and no, never even met him after. Never tried to call him, either.”

  “Like you did Idris?”

  “Right.”

  “Then you got to Cordell before he got sent into the federal system? When he was still in DC jail?”

  “That man you knocked down. He was running some shit for Cordell. Trying to, at least. Big heart, big man, but…not sharp, you know? I got to know him. He helped me clean up. In fact, you should let me call him so he doesn’t put out a search party.”

  “You can call in a bit. It’s good to let a man worry. Go on with the story.”

  “Just because the police raided the house on University Place and locked up Cordell and a lot of his crew doesn’t mean business stopped. It just quieted down for a while. Cordell needed a new face to get dope inside so he could make a bit of money until things on the outside started rolling again. When I cleaned myself up, my man introduced me to Cordell. It all began there.”

  “And now you’re being trusted with more, huh?”

  “Damn you, Frankie. We shouldn’t be here like this.”

  “Yeah, and that kid shouldn’t have gotten killed and you shouldn’t have tried to play both sides, either.”

  “Your Idris boy mentioned Tay—”

  “Taylor?”