An Imperfect Process

by Mary Jo Putney

  Miming shock and horror, Kendra dropped onto the narrow edging of lawn. Rob aimed the empty water pistol into the grass, unable to point even a toy weapon at another human. "Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang!"

  Heavy silence fell, along with aching awareness that a young man had died here, a victim of casual, meaningless violence. A hole had been left in the lives of everyone who knew him. Complete strangers had mourned the loss of a brave man who had sought to serve and protect. Kendra and her son's lives had been changed irrevocably.

  The silence was broken by a husky voice saying, "Then you ran back into the alley, swearing."

  Chapter 16

  Startled, Val glanced up from her spot on the grass to see a white-haired man smoking a pipe on the porch of the right-hand house. "You know what we're doing?"

  The man exhaled a mouthful of aromatic apple smoke. "You're acting out the Malloy murder."

  Val got to her feet, brushing off her full skirt. "If you lived here then, did you see something?" The police files hadn't mentioned that a neighbor saw the shooting.

  "I heard a scream and came out just as the first bullet was fired, so I ducked back into the house and called 911. All I said was that I heard shots. I didn't want to get involved, so I told myself that I hadn't seen enough to tell the police anything useful." The man drew on the pipe again. "Now I'm kinda sorry I didn't speak up."

  "But you heard him swearing and saw which way the shooter ran?" Rob asked.

  "I could hear his voice through an open window, and I saw him run off, but I was looking through curtains so I couldn't see much except the direction he was moving." His gaze moved to the cracked asphalt of the alley. "In all the years since, I've never once come or gone from the house without thinking of what happened here."

  "How do you stand it?" Kendra asked softly.

  The old man sighed. "You can get used to anything. What are you all up to? Odd sort of thing to do for fun."

  "I'm the lawyer representing the man who was convicted of the murder," Val explained. "We're investigating his possible innocence, so we're walking through the crime to get a better feel for what happened. You say the killer ran back into the cross alley. Did you have any sense of his build, or the way he moved?"

  "Tall. Broad. Probably young because he sure moved fast. As I said, nothing useful." He gestured with the stem of his pipe. "Once the killer ran back there, he could continue straight across to the next block, or turn north or south behind the houses. By the time the police arrived, he could have been anywhere."

  Rob asked, "Did you see the two men who were witnesses?"

  "Nope." He pointed the pipe stem again, down the street to the left. "They were supposed to be down there."

  Noting the wording, Val asked, "Did you have any reason to doubt their claims?"

  The older man snorted. "They were a couple of useless troublemakers who were regulars at a crack house round the corner. When they testified at the trial, the prosecutor made 'em both out to be Boy Scouts, but they weren't. I wouldn't believe either of 'em if they said the sun rises in the east."

  "You're saying they were unreliable witnesses?" Val asked, interest quickening.

  "Yeah, but no one asked my opinion." The old man emptied the charred embers of his pipe into an ashtray on the railing. "I don't know any more now than I did then. But whoever killed Malloy deserves to die." With that, he went inside.

  Rob looked at his notes with a frown. "The report implies that one of the policemen recognized Daniel from the description so they went right to the apartment, but the report is ambiguously written. Maybe it wasn't a policeman who originally fingered him."

  Guessing where his thoughts were going, Val said, "Do you think one of those helpful eyewitnesses could have suggested Daniel? I'm using my imagination here, but what if they recognized the shooter as some kind of buddy of theirs? To cover for him, they might have decided to throw blame on Daniel. It would be easy to stick to the story if they agreed on the details in advance."

  "Your theory would explain a lot," Rob said thoughtfully. "Assume that Brenda Harris was mistaken, which is very possible given the circumstances. If she was wrong, and the other two witnesses colluded in a lie, the whole case against Daniel collapses. But how the heck can we prove it with Darrell Long dead and Joe Cady vanished?"

  "Maybe I can help with Cady." Kendra gazed along the darkening street. "If the guys were down there, they couldn't see much unless there were no cars parked along the street, and in row house neighborhoods like this, there are always cars parked."

  "Val, come with me. I want to see how much was visible from there."

  Silently Val took Rob's hand and they crossed to the second house from the end. The reenactment was depressing her, and she felt better touching him. When they reached the right spot, Rob turned and looked back at Kendra. "In this light and with the cars in the way, it's almost impossible to see any detail."

  "I can't see anything," Val said. "I wonder how tall Long and Cady were?"

  "Taller than you." Rob caught her around the knees, boosting her up so she was perched on his shoulder.

  She clutched at head and arms, both alarmed and amused. He knew how to sweep a girl off her feet. "Even this high, I can't see much except that someone's standing there. Since Kendra is wearing slacks, I couldn't even swear to the gender. Hard to believe those two crack-heads saw much of anything."

  "I suppose they might have recognized the shooter by the way he moved or dressed." Carefully Rob set Val back on the pavement. "But no way did they see his face clearly."

  Val frowned as they rejoined Kendra. "We need a lot more than the possibility they were lying to get Daniel off. Has inspiration struck about finding Joe Cady?"

  "I know someone who might know where Cady is. Care to have dinner at a soul food bistro?" Kendra smiled a little. "Even if I'm wrong, you'll get the best smothered pork chops and peach cobbler in Baltimore."

  "It's a deal," Rob said. "Where is the restaurant?"

  "On the west side. I'll take you in my car," Kendra said. "Your pickup would be tight for three, and Val, you do not want to take your Lexus into this neighborhood."

  "Okay, you drive and I'll pick up the check. Now that I'm becoming self-employed, I'm up for deducting everything I can find."

  "Deducting all possible expenses is the first rule of self- employment," Rob said as he slung his arm around her shoulders. "It took me years to remember that after I started my business."

  As the three of them walked back to the shopping center where the cars were parked, Val burrowed as close to his side as she could get and still manage to walk. The reenactment had given them more information and theories, but gloomily she recognized that they were no closer to saving Daniel Monroe.

  * * *

  All three of them were silent as Kendra drove to West Baltimore. For her, the visit to her old home had stirred up memories both bittersweet and angry.

  She had mostly kept her fury under control since Daniel's arrest and conviction. A single mother struggling to better herself and care for her child couldn't afford to waste energy on anger. But her rage at the injustice still burned, scalding hot, at the bottom of her soul.

  She was glad to find a street parking spot only a block and a half from the restaurant. Though the neighborhood had improved in recent years, suburbia it wasn't. As they climbed from the car, Val surveyed their surroundings. "You're right. I don't want to bring my Lexus into this neighborhood."

  "It isn't as bad as it looks." Kendra locked the car doors. "The city has put a lot of money into this area and new businesses are opening now that most of the drug dealing has been shut down. Not the sort of place where partners of Crouse, Resnick are usually found, though." She was glad to be with Rob. No smart mugger would tackle a group that included him. Once a Marine, always a Marine.

  Though the sun had set, the air was still oppressively hot. Summertime in the city. When she was a kid, nights like this she and her parents would sit on the marble front s
teps of the house, enjoying the occasional breath of cool air and chatting lazily with neighbors. She had been too young to realize that she was living the good old days.

  The restaurant, Soul Survivors, was in an old row house next to a small storefront church with a very long name. The restaurant seemed larger inside than it looked from the street, with exposed brick walls and colorful primitive paintings of Southern life. Kendra breathed in the wickedly tempting scents of a soul food kitchen. She'd kept her distance from the restaurant for a long time, and it was good to be back. "This place smells like my grandmother's house."

  As always on a Saturday night, the dining room was packed. Below the chattering voices a lazy piano could be heard playing classic jazz. Kendra was amused to observe Val, who was absorbing every detail while doing her best not to look as if she was gawking. Apart from her and Rob, there was only one other white couple, and actually, they were kind of brown. For a liberal, Val hadn't seen enough of life.

  A hostess dressed in colorful African cotton approached. "Welcome. The dining room is full, but if you want dinner, there's a table downstairs."

  "Perfect." Kendra followed the hostess to the narrow stairway that descended to the bistro, a cozy, low-ceilinged room with more exposed brick and a performance area at the far end. On the shallow dais, a white-haired man played honey-sweet jazz piano, music soft enough to allow thought, seductive enough to reward closer listening.

  When they were seated, Kendra asked the hostess, "Would you ask Luke to stop by when we get to coffee and dessert? Tell him it's Kendra Brooks."

  The hostess nodded and left. As Val studied her menu, Kendra said, "Don't try to eat healthy here, Val. Nothing on this menu is intended to be healthy."

  "I noticed." Val grinned at the specials of the day. "I eat rabbit food regularly so I can indulge now and then. Bring on the smothered pork chops!"

  The food was as good as Kendra remembered, simple but perfectly prepared traditional Southern cooking. All three of them attacked it with gusto, right down to the peach cobbler with rich homemade ice cream. It was hard to be angry when you'd just eaten an orgasmic dessert.

  They were working on second cups of coffee and Val had paid the check, but still no Luke. Kendra was beginning to wonder if he wouldn't speak to her when a tall, broad-shouldered man picked his way between the closely-spaced tables. As always she was struck by how much Luke resembled Daniel though they were only half brothers.

  There was no pleasure in his face at seeing her. She got to her feet warily. "It's good to see you, Luke. Pull up a chair and sit for a spell."

  His eyes narrowed. "It's been a long time."

  "Too long."

  "Whose fault is that?" His deep voice was also like Daniel's. "Have you ever told that boy of yours who his real father is? Or is he still an ignorant bastard?"

  Good old Luke. Kendra was tempted to slug him, but she controlled the impulse. "Watch who you call bastard, Luke. If your parents were married, this is the first I've heard of it. You know why I didn't tell Jason. Do you think he would have been better off knowing his real daddy was convicted of murder?"

  "If there's one thing I learned in rehab, it's that honesty is essential."

  "In principle, maybe, but it's already hard to raise a black boy in this city. I didn't want to make things worse. Jason has always been a great kid, but other great kids have been lost to the streets."

  Luke grimaced. Like Daniel, he was always fair-minded. "You got a point there, but he's my nephew, Kendra. I want to get to know him."

  Her voice softened. "Someday, Luke. But if he ever met you, all he'd have to do is look in the mirror to start wondering about his daddy, and start asking questions Phil and I didn't want to answer."

  "When will someday come?"

  Kendra had thought about this over the years. "When he's twenty-one. I swear I'll tell him, Luke. And... I appreciate that you've respected my wishes on this and not contacted Jason directly."

  "It was Daniel's wishes I respected." His expression eased. "I guess your way worked since the boy's at the Air Force Academy. I didn't think much of officers when I was a grunt in Vietnam, but now the academy sounds good. You must be proud of him."

  "I am, and so is Daniel." She grinned. "Since we haven't hit each other, will you sit down now? These are my friends Val Covington and Rob Smith. Val and Rob, meet Luke Wilson, Daniel's brother, who runs this fine establishment with his wife, Angel."

  Rob stood to shake hands. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wilson. That's a strong resemblance to your brother."

  "Call me Luke. Danno and I are only half brothers, but we both look like our Mama, God rest her soul." The chair squeaked under his weight as he took the fourth seat at the table and signaled the waiter for coffee. "How's it hangin', Kendra? Somehow I doubt you came just for the chicken fried steak."

  "Val is my boss," Kendra explained, "and she's agreed to make a last-ditch attempt to get Daniel's sentence commuted."

  Hope and doubt passed over Luke's face. "Any chance of that?"

  "I honestly don't know, Luke," Val said soberly. "Daniel didn't want us to get involved, and he only agreed to cooperate for Kendra's sake. I won't lie. It will take something major to get your brother off death row. But so little investigation was done at the time that maybe we have a chance to turn up strong new evidence. Rob has been working on that almost full-time."

  She glanced at Rob. Taking her cue, he said, "That's why we're here. Tonight we visited the crime scene, and we're wondering if the two male witnesses might have colluded to cast the blame on Daniel to save some friend of theirs."

  "That's why I thought of you, Luke." Kendra leaned forward intently. "Darrell Long is dead and Rob hasn't been able to locate Joe Cady. You ran with that crowd. Any idea where we might look for Joe? Is he still alive?"

  Luke frowned and scratched inside one elbow, where the faint scars of old needle tracks showed under his short- sleeved shirt. He was in a position to know that basically decent kids could go off the rails if they succumbed to the dangerous lure of the streets.

  "Joe was an addict who never came clean, and he was in and out of jail. I haven't seen him for years, but I heard a couple of weeks ago that he's dying of AIDS. I don't know where." His gaze dropped to the needle scars. "Some of us were lucky with needles. Joe wasn't. Not a bad guy, but if Darrell told him to lie, he would."

  "Assuming our theory is true, do you have any idea who they might have wanted to protect?" Rob asked quietly. "Someone who looked a little like your brother?"

  "I've thought about that. I even suggested it to the cops after Danno was arrested, but they blew me off." Luke began rubbing at the scars again. "A couple of cousins ran the nearby crack house. Omar and Ike Benson. Both of 'em were tall, tough-looking guys, and they carried guns. Easy to imagine either one assaulting a woman and shooting a cop who tried to stop it. Since they controlled the neighborhood crack supply, Darrell and Joe might have figured it was worth getting on their good side."

  Rob wrote down their names. "The Bensons were mentioned to me before. Time I looked them up. Any idea where they might be now?"

  "Both dead. Omar was knifed in the Pen, and Ike was shot a few years later when a drug deal went bad. Another guy who worked for them, Shooter Williams, fit the same general description. Hell, if you don't insist on much resemblance to Danno, there were plenty of homeboys drifting in and out of that crack house who might have done a rape and a murder if they were high."

  "We haven't time to look at them all." Rob added the new name. "I'd like to start with Joe Cady, if he's still alive." He pulled out a business card and handed it over. "If you get any more ideas, let me know."

  "I'll do that. I'll ask Angel, too." Luke pocketed the card. To Val and Rob, he said, "My wife is my angel for sure. Without her, I never would have managed to stay straight, and I sure wouldn't have this business. She's the genius in the kitchen."

  "Say hi to Angel and the kids for me, Luke," Kendra said. "You're a lucky man."
/>
  "Don't I know it." His gaze went to her face with some of the warmth they had once shared when they were practically in-laws. "Will you do me a favor, Kendra? Sing a couple of songs before you go."

  Luke was thinking of the old days. "It's been years since I did club singing," Kendra said uncertainly. "Your customers deserve better."

  "Don't sing for them. Sing for me and Angel." His voice was soft and coaxing, just like Daniel when he wanted something.

  "Okay, Luke. For you and Angel." As Luke left the table and went upstairs, Kendra buried her head in her hands for a moment as she mentally shifted back twenty years to the days when she was young and carefree, full of songs and dreams.

  When she recaptured that feeling, she tunneled her fingers through her hair to loosen it, then stood and gave her head a shake so that the dark mass danced wantonly around her shoulders. Though her slacks and shirt were casual, the slacks revealed her long athlete's legs and as she strolled to the dais she undid the top buttons of her shirt to show off what the good Lord gave her. She didn't have to see a mirror to know that she didn't look like an uptown paralegal anymore.

  She waited until the pianist finished his piece, then conferred with him. His name was Ernie and she'd known him once in another lifetime. After they agreed on three songs, he handed her a microphone, and she turned to face the bistro full of diners.

  Val was staring in round-eyed amazement while Rob had the expression that meant he'd just realized Kendra was hot, the way she had noticed him earlier. She grinned and waved at them, swaying to the beat as Ernie played the intro to her first song.

  The shape of the mike was as familiar as if she had last sung in a club yesterday. Her first choice was "Body and Soul," a Billie Holiday standard song for lost love. What woman, or man, for that matter, hadn't felt the same way? In a voice plangent with yearning, Kendra sang the sorrows of her life—the losses of her mother, her lover, her husband—but she also sang as an indomitable survivor. Black women personified the blues, because they had suffered and endured and found new joys.