Trouble in Mind

by Michael Wiley

  ‘The Felbankses are dead,’ he told him.

  ‘That sucks.’

  ‘Dan Peters woke me with the news this morning. He had a team roll my apartment, looking for evidence that I killed them.’

  ‘That sucks,’ he said again.

  ‘Do you have anything else to say?’

  ‘Yeah, Peters looks dirty in all of this. I talked to a Rogers Park dealer last night. He said Bicho sold “recycled.” Recycled, as in taken off the street by a cop or stolen from evidence or never cataloged – and then fed back to the street through Bicho. That’s what he said.’

  ‘Did the dealer say anything about Peters?’

  ‘No, I don’t think he knew who. But Peters has had a hard-on for you since Christian Felbanks died, so why not?’

  Kelson said, ‘He seemed to take me seriously about Doreen for the first time this morning, but he didn’t like me talking about Bicho.’

  ‘Then treat him like he’s rotten unless you learn different. What are you going to do now?’

  ‘I need to talk to Nancy and convince her to get Sue Ellen out of the city. I won’t touch Dominick Stevens, and so they’re next on the list.’

  ‘Maybe you should go with them. No shame in running away if someone’s got bigger guns than you.’

  ‘Who would feed the kittens?’

  ‘Take yourself off the table. Change the game. Keep yourself from getting hurt.’

  ‘How about you?’ Kelson said. ‘What’s next?’

  ‘I’m going to take Dominick Stevens out to lunch.’

  ‘What’re you talking about?’

  ‘Here’s all you need to know – I’m doing this for you. For him too, but mainly for you. You understand that?’

  ‘No, you’re confusing me.’

  ‘Good,’ Rodman said.

  Kelson drove to the Healthy Smiles Dental Clinic.

  ‘Toselli,’ he said.

  ‘Do I believe it?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

  Dr P had warned that his perceptions might swerve from reality.

  ‘I hope so,’ he said.

  Nancy’s waiting room was painted in a safari theme with big-toothed animals grinning from behind jungle foliage and banana-eating monkeys hanging from the branches.

  The receptionist greeted Kelson with a smile as big as the shy hippo’s. But when he asked to see his ex-wife, she said. ‘That could be a problem. She’s doing a cavity.’

  Kelson said he had an emergency, and she sent word back. Fifteen minutes later, Nancy came into the waiting room, wearing safety glasses.

  The waiting parents looked scandalized when he told her about the methhead prostitute who’d given him details that made him think Doreen Felbanks or the man who was running her meant to harm anyone connected to him – and that meant Nancy and Sue Ellen. Then Nancy jabbed a dental pick at Kelson’s chest as she berated him for putting their daughter in danger. As he expected, she refused to flee. She would pick up Sue Ellen from school herself. She would use extra caution. But she wouldn’t allow Kelson’s selfishness to disrupt their lives.

  ‘Selfishness?’ he said. ‘I got shot in the head.’

  A woman with twin blond-haired boys gathered their toys and scurried from the office.

  ‘I feel bad for you,’ Nancy said. ‘We all do. But that doesn’t change the fact that the rest of us have lives.’

  ‘So blunt,’ he said. ‘So cold.’ He fought the urge but said, ‘And still so sexy.’

  She poked the dental pick at him. ‘Leave.’

  FORTY-FOUR

  The report of a black man abducting real-estate developer Dominick Stevens outside the Omni Hotel came over the radio shortly after nine. Halfway between Nancy’s clinic and his office, Kelson pulled over and listened, then searched for the WGN-TV stream on his phone.

  They had video of the abduction from an Omni security camera. A fuzzy-looking Dominick Stevens walked from the Omni carrying a paper cup of coffee. A large black man approached from behind and put a massive hand on Stevens’s shoulder. He took the coffee cup, set it on the sidewalk, and then – with his back to the camera, as if he’d scouted security beforehand – dragged Stevens to a white van. He pushed him in through a sliding door, climbed into the driver’s seat, and pulled from the curb. Kelson magnified the image. The license plates were obscured.

  The anchorwoman said the police were asking Chicagoans to report sightings of white late-model Chevrolet G20 cargo vans. Then she cut to a profile of Stevens and his political and financial friendships.

  Doreen Felbanks’s call interrupted Kelson’s third viewing of the video. ‘What are you doing?’ Her voice had an edge.

  ‘Don’t be mad. You said Mengele wanted me to get rid of Stevens.’

  ‘I said he wanted you to kill him. I said nothing about having someone yank him off the street.’

  ‘Stevens is off the table.’

  ‘No one’s off the table,’ she said. ‘You know what will happen to your—’

  ‘I’m coming after you,’ he said. ‘You think you’ve got me, but I’m right behind you.’ And he hung up.

  Seconds later, his phone rang again but he silenced it. He knew what she would say, knew the threats to Nancy and Sue Ellen, knew the warning about what would happen to him personally if he failed to follow directions. And he knew what he would say, what he couldn’t unsay. He didn’t want to hear or say any of it.

  He pulled back into the street and, instead of continuing to his office, drove south toward Rodman’s Bronzeville apartment. But then another report came over the car radio. Dominick Stevens had contacted another station, WBEZ. He was safe and with friends, he said. The video and eyewitness accounts were mistakes, misunderstandings.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ Kelson said, and kept driving.

  Rodman’s neighborhood looked as it always did. ‘A place that holds on by its knuckles,’ Kelson said as he looked out the windshield. ‘No pulling itself up. No tumbling in a freefall.’ It had people like Rodman to thank for the calm – people who chased drug dealers from the alleys and lived their lives steadily and quietly and with their eyes open for the next threat from above or below. Kelson felt those eyes on him as he got out of his car and scurried to Rodman’s building.

  He climbed the two flights of stairs to Rodman’s apartment and knocked. The door swung halfway open and Rodman beckoned him inside.

  Dominick Stevens and Francisca Cabon sat on the living-room couch under the portraits of Malcolm X, Rodman’s girlfriend Cindi, and Martin Luther King, Jr. Their baby slept against Stevens’s chest. A beaten-up red suitcase stood against the wall.

  ‘Huh,’ Kelson said.

  ‘Told you,’ Rodman said.

  Cindi came in from the kitchen with coffee. She smiled at Kelson. ‘DeMarcus said you’d be joining us.’

  ‘I’ve never been to a party like this,’ Kelson said.

  ‘Had to get them out of the way,’ Rodman said. ‘After dumping the Felbankses in Dominick’s bed, someone broke into Francisca’s place last night.’

  ‘Bastard tried to kill me,’ Francisca said. ‘Would’ve done it too, except I was up with Miguel.’ She reached for the baby, and Stevens handed him to her.

  ‘Huh,’ Kelson said again.

  Rodman downed half of his coffee. ‘Like I said, no shame in running away if your enemy’s got bigger guns. I invited Francisca and Dominick to spend a little time at our B and B.’

  Stevens toasted him with his coffee cup. ‘Here’s to Nirvana.’

  ‘Mi casa es su casa,’ Rodman said.

  ‘What the hell?’ Kelson said.

  ‘Don’t overthink it,’ Rodman said.

  But a headache dug into Kelson’s skull. He asked Francisca, ‘You saw the guy who came after you?’

  ‘Wasn’t like he was a ghost.’

  ‘Did you recognize him?’

  ‘I recognized the kind. Full of himself. Slick.’

  ‘Good-looking? Highly principled? No man left behind?
An angel of death?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘How’d you scare him off?’

  ‘I’m not stupid. Alone in that building with Miguel? I have a gun. When he shot at me, I shot back. He didn’t expect that, I think.’

  ‘Did you hit him?’

  ‘I didn’t even aim at him. You think I want to kill somebody?’

  ‘How about your roommate?’

  ‘Elena? She moved out a couple days ago – met a boy at a club.’

  Rodman said, ‘Francisca called Dominick afterward. She was in his room at the hotel this morning when I picked him up.’

  She put a hand on Stevens’s thigh. ‘Dominick had DeMarcus come back for me.’

  Kelson said, ‘You went back to the hotel after kidnapping him?’

  ‘Couldn’t leave her there,’ Rodman said. ‘And I didn’t kidnap him – I just gave him a ride.’

  ‘And what’s the deal with you?’ Kelson said to Stevens. ‘Your girlfriend’s like sixteen. You couldn’t wait until she graduated from high school?’

  ‘Eighteen, bastard,’ Francisca said. ‘I finished two years ago. Graduated early.’

  ‘Huh,’ Kelson said.

  ‘Racist,’ she said.

  ‘Um,’ Rodman said, ‘we’ve got important stuff to deal with.’

  ‘I fell in love,’ Stevens said. ‘Lock me up for it.’

  ‘We do that to men like you,’ Kelson said. ‘Unless they’ve got enough money – like you.’

  Rodman said, ‘What about Nancy and Sue Ellen?’

  That shook Kelson out of it. ‘I talked to Nancy. She won’t budge.’

  ‘Maybe she doesn’t get a choice. At least not about your girl.’

  ‘If you try to grab Nancy off the street, she’ll break your knees.’

  ‘I don’t want to grab anyone,’ Rodman said. ‘I’m talking about drawing a circle around them. No one gets through.’

  ‘You have friends who can do that?’ Kelson asked. ‘Because I don’t.’

  ‘I can call favors,’ he said.

  Stevens said, ‘And I’ve got friends.’

  That brought a smile to Kelson’s face. ‘You I don’t get. The man who’s doing this will roll over the kind of guy who runs to the Omni when he’s scared.’

  Stevens gave him back a smile. ‘I have the right kind of friends.’

  ‘Accept the offer,’ Rodman said to Kelson.

  ‘Fine,’ Kelson said. ‘Call them.’

  ‘Now say thank you,’ Rodman said.

  FORTY-FIVE

  They spent the morning at Rodman’s apartment, planning for eventualities they couldn’t really anticipate. ‘When you can’t see your enemy, you watch every angle,’ Rodman said, ‘and you also watch from the outside in, because sometimes the first thing that’s visible is their backs.’

  He made a call, and an hour later a tiny, one-armed man named Marty LeCoeur knocked at the door with his girlfriend, Janet, a big, nasty-complexioned woman. Marty held her hand, caressing her wrist with his little thumb.

  Rodman said, ‘Marty’s the most truly ferocious man I’ve ever known. I could tell you stories about him.’

  The little man seemed to take that as a compliment, but said, ‘I keep books at West Side Aluminum. Got no record. I’m fucking clean.’

  ‘Clean because he scrubs up afterward,’ Rodman said. ‘He doesn’t like bullies.’

  ‘Nope, fucking hate them.’

  ‘Once clubbed a guy in the knees with a tire iron for insulting Janet.’

  ‘I’m a fucking knight in fucking shining armor.’

  ‘I wouldn’t tangle with him.’

  ‘Why would I want to tangle with you, DeMarcus?’

  So Kelson told him Nancy’s address and explained her schedule. Marty promised to park outside or leave another guard overnight until Nancy and Sue Ellen left for work and school.

  ‘Nancy will feel insulted if she thinks you’re protecting her,’ Kelson said, ‘and when she feels insulted, she gets violent.’

  ‘No problem,’ Marty said. ‘I’m fucking discreet.’

  ‘You need weapons?’ Rodman asked.

  Marty looked at him as if he’d made a joke. ‘A man like me, they never see it coming.’

  When they left, Kelson asked Rodman, ‘What favor is he paying back?’

  ‘I set him up with Janet.’

  Then Dominick Stevens called Bicho’s friend, Esteban Herrera, who worked the downstairs reception desk at the Stevens Group building. He had him write down a list of files and asked him to bring them from his office to Rodman’s apartment. ‘Tell no one where you’re going,’ he said.

  When he hung up, Kelson said, ‘You put a lot of trust in him.’

  ‘I took him in when he had no place to live. Since then, he knows more about me than anyone else I work with.’

  Twenty minutes later, Herrera knocked on the door.

  He looked up at Rodman as he came in and said, ‘Holy shit.’ Then he saw Kelson and his expression went from awe to confusion.

  Francisca smiled. ‘Hey, guapo.’

  Stevens took a briefcase from him and directed him to Kelson. ‘You need to answer this gentleman’s questions about Bicho.’

  Herrera gave a little shake of his head. ‘I don’t snitch, you know that.’

  ‘Don’t disrespect Bicho’s memory,’ Stevens said. ‘Just tell the man what you can.’

  Herrera looked to Francisca for support. She said, ‘He’s helping Dominick and me.’

  ‘I don’t snitch,’ Herrera said.

  ‘Who supplied Bicho with his drugs?’ Kelson asked.

  ‘Uh-uh.’

  ‘If he didn’t get them from Hugo Nuñez, where’d he get them?’

  Herrera stared at him hard. ‘You’re an asshole.’

  ‘A lot of people say so,’ Kelson said. ‘After Bicho’s mom died, who took care of him? Was he on his own?’

  Herrera looked at Stevens.

  ‘Talk to the man,’ Stevens said.

  He looked at Francisca again.

  She nodded.

  He eyed Kelson as if trying to figure out his game. ‘He had an uncle, but that didn’t work out.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘You ask too many questions. I’ve got one for you. How’s it feel to shoot a kid? You get off on that?’

  ‘It feels bad,’ Kelson said. ‘The worst thing ever. Think of what it would feel like to stick a blade in your own head and twist it. Then think of worse than that.’

  ‘I don’t feel for you. You did what you did.’

  ‘And I would do it again. That doesn’t mean I like it. Tell me about Bicho’s uncle.’

  ‘All I know is he’s like you. Says one thing and does another. Like I say, it didn’t work out.’

  Rodman asked, ‘He have a name?’

  Herrera stared at Kelson. ‘You an ex-cop and all? You can’t find out?’

  ‘The records seem to have gone missing,’ he said.

  ‘See, that’s what I’m talking about. He’s a guy like you – trouble sticks to him. If I see a band saw, I don’t stick my fingers in it. No, I don’t know his name. But he isn’t Mexican. I don’t think he even habla Español.’

  Rodman said, ‘Dan Peters?’

  ‘Who?’

  Rodman moved in close. ‘No? You know where we can find this man?’

  Francisca said, ‘Tell him what you know, Esteban.’

  Herrera said, ‘It was a couple years ago since Bicho lived with him, and he was there only a month or two before he got kicked out. The rest was rumors.’

  ‘What rumors?’ Rodman asked.

  ‘I don’t snitch, and I don’t tell stories about my friends. But I’ll tell you this much – once Bicho moved out, they got on better. He sometimes went over there.’

  Kelson said, ‘But he never said where that was?’

  ‘Some things with Bicho, you knew better than to ask. But a lot of his trouble started with his uncle. Long as his mom was alive, he playe
d straight. When she was gone, he did a man’s work in kid’s shoes. Didn’t have no choice.’

  ‘Do you know why the uncle kicked him out?’ Kelson asked.

  ‘I guess Alejandro didn’t live up to his expectations.’

  ‘About what?’

  Herrera glanced at Stevens and Francisca. ‘Forget it. I don’t snitch.’

  Herrera left then, and Stevens pulled a pile of contracts from his briefcase and converted Rodman’s living room into a temporary business office. Cindi changed into nurse scrubs and headed to a shift at Rush Medical.

  Kelson left too and drove to his office. He spent so much time talking to himself in the rearview mirror – debating what Herrera had said and failed to say, commenting on the essential goodness of men like Rodman, wondering about Stevens and whether the love he professed for Francisca was real or corrupt or more likely both, mouthing the name Toselli, mouthing it again – that he almost rear-ended a delivery truck, narrowly missed a woman stepping into the crosswalk three blocks later, and entirely missed seeing the blue Buick Regal with two Mexican men in it, idling at the curb across the street from the parking garage by his office, and the black Chevy Tahoe idling by the garage entrance.

  He was still chattering when he cut the engine in the shadows of the garage. Before getting out of his car, he looked once more at the mirror and said, ‘I’ve got to admit Francisca Cabon could do it for a man.’

  He answered, ‘Not as much as Doreen Felbanks.’

  He said, ‘It’s messed-up that I should even think that way about her.’

  And he answered, ‘But typical.’

  Then he walked down the ramp into the sunlight – and into the hands of Dan Peters and Venus Johnson, who whisked him from the sidewalk into the back of the Chevy Tahoe. Peters got in beside him. Johnson jumped into the driver’s seat. The Tahoe shot from the curb. ‘What the hell?’ Kelson said.

  ‘Shut up,’ Peters said, and glanced at the street behind them.

  ‘I didn’t do—’

  Peters craned his neck. ‘I said, shut up.’