“She give you his real name?”
“I’ll let her tell you that.”
“You people act like you’ve got all these rules.”
“What do you mean, ‘you people’?”
“Investigators, police—people like that.”
“Then what the hell do you mean by ‘act’?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Listen, Calvin, without it, you might screw up what you’re working on,” I tell him.
“I guess.”
He goes back to the binos, scanning the block like he’s about to catch something good.
We give it another forty-five minutes here and then make our way to the lot. I’m going to have to work this out, how to handle Ty and Marlon. One of them has to get snatched up so we can have a chat.
Sixty-Seven
Rattan is parked in the middle of the lot, the front of her car facing the entrance that we drive through. Calvin is sitting in the front seat now. She’s seen him before, when I told her he works with me, so I’ll have to explain why I didn’t identify him then as the source of information. I park with my window beside hers, with the back of my car facing the entrance.
We roll down our windows in sync. She notices Calvin, scans the rear seats of my car.
“You remember Calvin,” I say.
“Yes. You said he works with you. He your source?”
“I ain’t—”
“He’s not my source,” I cut Calvin off. “He does work with me part-time, learning the PI biz.”
“So what’s the big deal not revealing him?”
“No big deal. Just wanted to keep him out of the possibility of all that court shit. Still learning, you know.”
“All right, then,” she says with a hint of skepticism. “How are you doing, Calvin?”
“Doing fine.”
“I want to show you a photo, but first I want to ask a couple of questions.”
Calvin looks at me.
“You don’t need my permission,” I tell him. “Answer her questions.”
“This is just common procedure, Calvin. I have to ask these questions whenever I show one photo for a confirmation.”
“Okay.”
“The person you identified in the bodycam photo as Rule, do you know his full name?”
“No. Just Rule. Don’t even know if that’s his real name.”
“Is he a friend?”
“Hell no. I only know him from seeing him around the neighborhood. I grew up around Clifton.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
“Had to be more than three years. Before working with Investigator Marr, I was working at a deli and living with my uncle, so I’m not around that area no more.”
“Okay. How many times have you seen him when you were in that area?”
“I couldn’t say for sure.”
“More than ten times?”
“Oh, hell—I mean yes.”
“Okay. I want to show you this photo. Tell me if you know him.”
She hands the photo to me, and I hand it to Calvin.
He looks at it and says right away, “That’s Rule, all right.”
“Okay. Thanks, Calvin.”
I take the photo from him, look at it for a second, and hand it back to her.
“I’ll give you a copy of the BOLO in case you see him in your travels. Keep it to yourself, though. It’s not public yet. I know I don’t have to tell you this, but if you do see him, please don’t try to stop him yourselves. Call nine one one and then call me.”
“That mean you have enough for a warrant?”
“The bodycam photo is just barely identifiable, but with any luck it’s enough to get it by a judge.”
“I hope you will.”
“Thanks again, Calvin. Oh, I’ll need your full name, but don’t worry, it won’t be on the affidavit.”
“Affydavid?” Calvin says.
“Affidavit. It’s what the police write up to get a warrant signed,” I say.
I can tell he’s scared. I hope Rattan can’t read him like I can.
“Tolson,” he says.
“Good, and I’ll just get in touch with him through you, Marr. That is, if I even have to.”
“No problem,” I say.
“I have to roll.”
“Stay safe.”
She raises her window, drives out, and when traffic is clear she makes a right turn. I keep the window down and light up a cigarette.
“Now the police got my full name.”
“Will you stop it with that shit already?” I say.
I drive to make our way back to Queen Street.
Sixty-Eight
I find a good parking space on the same block as the house, about half a block down. Calvin’s in the back seat again, working the binos. There’s nothing to see, though. Maybe he likes birds.
I notice through the rearview mirror a black, older-model SUV coming up. I recline back.
“Stay still,” I tell Calvin.
It drives past us. Heavy tint, of course, so I can’t make out anyone inside.
“Can you see anyone inside?” I say.
“Naw. Tint too heavy.”
The car stops at the end of the block and takes a right.
Calvin repositions himself in the seat so he can get a better view through the front windshield.
“Don’t bounce around back there,” I say.
“I ain’t bouncin’.”
“You know what I mean. People can notice movement when you do that.”
“I’ll be smooth about it next time.”
I sneak back up in my seat. The SUV is gone.
“We need something to break here.”
“What you mean?”
“I want to snatch up Ty or Marlon. I have questions.”
“How you plan on doin’ that? Can’t just go and snatch someone up like that.”
How do I answer this?
“There are ways.”
“What ways?”
“Ways that are usually a spur-of-the-moment kinda thing.”
He huffs a laugh and says, “You do that kinda shit when you were the police?”
“Hell no,” I lie.
“Yeah, right.”
I don’t respond. Guess he can see right through me, too.
“If you want my opinion, it should be Marlon you snatch up.”
“Why do you think that?”
“’Cause he weak.”
“He might have some fight in him.”
“Without a doubt, man, but I’m talkin’ ’bout his mind is weak. He’ll be quicker to talk.”
“That’s a good observation. I hope we’ll get there, ’cause I don’t know if we’re wasting our time on this shit or not. Might be chasing the wind here.”
“I like that—chasing the wind.”
I shoot him a hard look.
“What?”
I turn back to the house.
“If anyone’s gonna have answers about Taylor, it’ll be one of his boys. I don’t believe it’s a waste of time,” he says.
“Hope you’re right.”
The front door to the house opens. It’s Ty, and he’s alone. He closes the door behind him. Damn, is this karma or what.
“There’s Ty,” I say.
“Yeah, that him.”
He’s standing on the porch, tapping something on his iPhone.
“Keep a close eye on him.”
“I got it.”
After a few minutes of standing there looking at the screen of his phone, he steps off the porch and walks across the street to our side. We’re a few cars down. He’s standing on the street close to another car, facing our direction.
“Take cover behind the passenger seat. Slowly.”
I recline back as far as I can, but without losing sight of him.
“What the fuck is he doing?” I say.
“Looks like he be texting from what I can see. These binos are the fucking shit.”
“Maybe wa
iting for somebody.”
“Look like it.”
Ty finishes whatever he’s doing on the phone, looks in our direction, like he’s staring right at us. He begins to walk toward my car. He stops near the front of the vehicle parked ahead of us. He’s still standing in the road.
He points the iPhone straight at my car, keeps it there. Taking pictures?
“Fucking shit.”
“Yeah, looks like we been made, man.”
“You gotta be kidding me. They had to have a lookout somewhere. Fucking stupid.”
“He just standing there, pointing the cell at your car. What are we supposed to do?”
“Now’s as good a time as any, I suppose.”
“Ty’s a fool standing there like that.”
“Fuck it,” I say. “You stay down, watch my back.”
“Naw, this ain’t good. Let’s roll.”
“Stay down.”
I check the small of my back, tug at the handcuffs secured over my belt, open the door and step out.
He’s still standing there, pointing the phone at me. Recording me?
“Don’t go fucking running on me,” I tell him.
“I ain’t got no reason to run,” he says calmly.
I stay behind the front door for cover, then decide to close it so I don’t burn Calvin, who is hunkered down in the back. I grip my weapon and take a couple of steps forward.
“I’m an investigator looking into the death of your friend Arthur Taylor.”
He doesn’t say anything. I step closer, hand still gripping my weapon. The kid won’t budge. He has an odd, freaky smile. Makes me uncomfortable, especially since it’s coming from such a little kid.
This is a fucking setup.
Before I can pull my weapon out, I feel something like cold steel pressed against the back of my head. I don’t have to guess what it is.
“We all know who you are,” an unfamiliar voice behind me says.
“Then you know I’m not the police, and I’m trying to find out why Arthur got shot.”
“You still the police,” the unfamiliar voice says. “You always the police, and you helping out that shit ’migo detective friend of yours.”
“I just want to talk, and then I’ll be on my way. No need to have that gun at my head.”
“Fuck you, bitch. Take your hand off your piece or I blow the brains outta your skull.”
I take my hand off the grip, put them in front of me so he can see.
“How about letting me turn so we can talk face-to-face?”
I feel the gun move away from my head, and I start to slowly turn, but a sudden blow crashes into the back of my head, near my right ear, not a fist. It throws me forward and to the ground. I fight not to go out.
I don’t draw my gun. I roll to a sitting position, now see the man who was behind me, standing over me and pointing the gun at my chest.
Jonas fucking Rule.
Sixty-Nine
Head is throbbing. I can feel the blood down the back of my neck and dripping down my right ear. I put my left hand on the back of my head.
“That fucking necessary?” I ask.
Look at my hand after, smeared with blood.
I’m going to die here, kissing this cold fucking filthy ground.
“We need to roll out, Rule.”
“Shut the fuck up, fool. Fucking calling me out like that.”
It’s done. I’m gonna get shot at close range. Dammit, Calvin. Did you call 911? Not that it’ll matter.
He steadies his gun, finger on the trigger. No fear in his eyes.
“You don’t have to do this. I’m not out to fuck with your business.”
“Naw, but we out to fuck with yours.”
I’m dizzy. Feel like throwing up. I reposition myself awkwardly, my hands now on the freezing pavement to hold myself up, keep from going out. It’s going to be the last thing I see.
“Rule!” I hear Ty yell.
“Drop the fucking gun or I blow your brains outta your skull,” I hear a beautifully familiar voice say.
I look up.
Calvin is behind Rule, pointing a gun at his head. It’s the gun I took off Tamie’s man. He must’ve gone into my backpack and gotten it.
I struggle to stand. Waver a bit, but I manage to find my balance. When I turn toward Ty, he pivots and bolts. Running so fast he hits the corner and runs north, then out of sight.
Rule still has his gun on me.
“Drop that piece, Rule,” Calvin orders.
I choose not to draw my gun ’cause he’s only a couple feet in front of me with the gun pointed right at me.
He lowers it to his side. That gives me the chance to pull my weapon and aim.
“Drop the gun, Rule!” I command.
He turns to me, gun still at his side. I can tell he’s thinking hard.
“Drop it now,” I order again.
He does. It lands at his feet.
“Kick it my way,” I order him.
He hesitates but kicks it halfway and steps forward to turn his head and look at who is behind him.
He is surprised, almost smiles.
“Playboy? You a fucking snitch for the feds, just like Tamie D, but you a snitch with a gun, boy.”
“I ain’t no snitch.”
Rule doesn’t seem to be afraid. He’s either a fool or a maniac. I hope not both.
“Get on your knees, Rule,” I say.
“Fuck you and your bitch snitch.”
He’s both.
“I said I ain’t no snitch. This a job.”
Calvin steps back, aims the gun at Rule’s left foot.
“Oh fuck,” I mumble.
He fires, blows the tip of Rule’s designer high-top sneaker off, along with what appears to be his big toe. Calvin didn’t expect that. The recoil was too much, and the gun falls from his hand close to the front tire of my car, near Rule’s gun.
“Fuck,” Calvin says.
“My toes! My fucking toes! You fucking shot off my toes!”
Rule’s frantic, a crazy kinda rage, and doesn’t seem to care that I’m standing there with a gun aimed at him.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Rule says, and makes a dive for one of the fallen guns, gets his hand on the grip of the one Calvin was holding.
Calvin jumps back, at least a couple of feet.
“Stop, Rule, or I’ll shoot you!” I yell.
He doesn’t hear me or chooses not to.
I fire two times, hitting him in the stomach, maybe the right shoulder. His hand is gripping the gun. He turns to me.
“And fuck you,” he says to me, trying to sit up with the gun still in his hand.
Like he doesn’t even know he’s been shot.
I double tap him in the chest. The impact rolls him to his back. His head falls to the pavement, and the gun falls from his hand.
“Shit. Fuck. We have to get outta here,” Calvin says.
“We don’t run, Calvin.”
I put my gun in a tuck position, still aimed at Rule, and with my right foot I slide the Sig Sauer to me, and then the 9mm Taurus that Rule had. I scan the area, notice a couple of neighbors a few houses back peering out their windows, but no one outside or anywhere else I can see. Possible witnesses, but they’re not close.
I holster my weapon, pull my handcuffs out and cuff Rule’s hands behind his back. I can hear his labored breathing.
“Fuck, he’s gotta be on PCP or some shit like that,” I say.
“This crazy. This some crazy shit.”
I leave both guns where they are.
“What we gonna do now?”
“Call nine one one and wait for the police,” I answer. “I’m justified.”
“But I ain’t. I got the gun from your pack. I thought it was the pellet gun. I wouldn’t have shot his foot otherwise. I ain’t got no license. I shot him in the foot after he dropped the gun.”
“Oh, and then there’s that.”
I look around again and then bend down, act l
ike I’m looking under my car, but pick up Rule’s gun, keeping it close to my side so it’s not easily seen.
“What are you doing?”
I stand up, walk around to the passenger side of my car, open the door, and place the gun at the bottom of my backpack, under a bottle of Jameson, my stun gun, and a few other essential items. I close the door and lock it with the key fob.
“What the fuck you doin’? You gotta talk to me.”
“When the police get here they’re probably going to interview us separately, so we gotta get the story right. Understand?”
“Fuck me.”
“We don’t have much time. I have to call nine one one.”
“I’m gonna get arrested.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I say while tapping in the number.
When the dispatcher answers, I identify myself and say, “There’s been a shooting. We need the police and an ambulance for one male, suffering from multiple gunshot wounds to the back and chest area. I think he’s still conscious.”
I quickly give the address and disconnect. Not even ten seconds later, my cell rings. I recognize the number from my police days. It’s the dispatcher calling back because I hung up. I don’t answer.
Sirens already in the distance. Now I need a good story.
“This is our story,” I tell him.
Seventy
This is one of those trigger moments, when I feel the need, that burning desire to snort up a beautiful pile of blow.
Millhoff, Rattan, and Shawn Caine, a detective who worked the officer shooting Calvin was involved in, are here, along with the rest of the homicide squad, including the lieutenant and sergeant. Even though Rule is still alive, they have to show, both because of the severity of his injuries and because he’s a suspect in the shooting of the two officers. A couple of district detectives are also on the scene, helping the homicide detectives conduct a door-to-door for possible witnesses. The house Ty was in is secured by uniform officers, pending a search warrant. Of course, the big guns are on the way. The district commander is leaning against his marked unit, waiting for their arrival. Caine is interviewing Calvin, and Rattan and Millhoff are with me. The back of my head has been cleansed and bandaged up. I refused going to the hospital. It’s just a gash.
“I’ll say it again. I had no idea that Rule was at this location. I got information about this house as a possible safe house where Ty and Marlon stay. All I wanted to do was interview one of them about their friend Arthur Taylor.”
Trigger Page 22
