“MJ, you know that’s a lie. Your cousin got himself sent up. I didn’t know anything about your cousin.”
“So your mother just happened to be there, just happened to be the one who broke into that room just when he was measuring out some product for his customer.”
“Think about it, MJ. All you told me that night was that you wanted to go visit your cousin. Before that, I’d never even heard of him. The cops were watching him long before you asked me for that ride. Unless you left something out when you asked for that small favor, you didn’t even know he was dealing.”
She doesn’t have a response for this, and just starts taking groceries out of the trunk.
“Wait. You knew? And you asked me to drive you to a drug deal?”
“I was just going to visit while he was passing through. I didn’t know he’d be doing business while I was there.”
“So how do you expect I knew anything if you didn’t? Never mind. I’ve got my own problems to deal with. I don’t have time for this,” I say, turning to leave.
“Hold on. What did you need my help with?”
“You can’t help me. Well, actually you can, but I get it. MJ ain’t no snitch.”
I walk away because if anyone should be mad, it’s me. She knew by asking me to give her that ride she was getting me into some potential trouble, and she let me. She got Lana mad at me all summer, not trusting me—making me quit my job and have to go to Langdon. She has information that might help me and she’s holding out on me because of some stupid street code. Lana was right. For someone who thinks so much like a cop, I’ve got bad judgment. But I never thought that was true about people. I always thought I knew people. Now MJ has shot my confidence to hell.
I’m on the porch at three o’clock, still trying to work things out. Since my conversation with MJ, I’m back to Justin and Lissa being the best suspects, even if they were eating ostrich and boar forty miles away. It only means they had a partner. My first thought was Annette. I’ve seen her steal myself. But I’ve ruled her out. She has a shoplifting habit, but I don’t think she’s smart enough for Justin and Lissa to trust her to be in on their scheme at a deep level. Besides, witnesses say they saw a black or Hispanic male loading the Mitchell van, who the cops assumed was Marco helping me.
But they never actually saw a girl. The cops picked me up because the merchandise stolen matched the exact items on my inventory list, my prints were all over the house, and they found my wallet. I had access to the keys. That takes me back to Malcolm, who also had access to the keys, the list, and possibly my wallet. He’s a brown-skinned male. But he has an alibi, so he claims. I should have asked Paulette about him while she was so generous with the gossip. Now I’m just going in circles, coming up with nothing, so I distract myself with the arrival of Ada Crawford, who lives across the street, three doors down from Tasha. She pulls up in her recently acquired Lexus SUV, custom metallic gold paint with gold twenty-two-inch spinners and gold medallions. If you can’t be gold, drive it.
When Tasha and I first noticed how large Ada was living without a job and then saw all the strange men who come and go out of her house at all hours, we thought she was running a crack house. But Donnell would never allow competition on the block and none of the men looked like crackheads. They were well-dressed, drove nice cars. That’s when we deduced Ada was a professional, if you know what I mean. When I asked Lana about her a year ago, she confirmed it.
“So why don’t you arrest her?”
“She’s small time. What we want are her customers. We’ll let her build up her clientele first. It’ll be the easiest bust I ever make—run the stakeout from the house, then have some uniforms knock on the door.”
“What’s up with them? Who are they?”
“Nothing you need to know. I already said too much. Ada’s harmless, but you keep away from her house.”
Right, like I’d ever want anything to do with Ada. But I’m not hating that car she’s driving. That’s when I remember something. Mr. Mitchell cut off the bank flow to Lissa and Justin about the time school started, and she’s still carrying a brand-new Fendi bag and buying Il Mare face cream. She could have used the five-finger discount to get it like her girl Annette, but Justin can’t shoplift pot. Or whatever he’s on. And they both act like getting a job would be the equivalent of being a scholarship kid. Unthinkable. So how are they living so large? They must be stealing stuff and selling it.
But they can’t be in two places at one time, so they must be tipping off a partner on what to steal, and then giving them access to the goods. That way Lissa could buy Bethanie and the clones dinner the night of Annette’s party, while the partner could rob Annette’s place. That way they can out-of-the-blue take their father for an ostrich steak while those two client homes were being hit. That way they always have the perfect alibis.
Chapter 31
I don’t know who might be working with Justin and Lissa, but I know it isn’t someone from Langdon. If the stolen goods are being converted to cash, Langdon kids would have no idea how to do it. There are always pawn shops, but once you start moving a lot of goods, that becomes risky. A legitimate pawn shop, and even the more shady shops when you’re dealing in serious volume, are going to run the serial numbers, and won’t take anything with the numbers scratched or burned off. That means somewhere down the line, there’s a fence involved, someone who knows how to move stolen goods in volume, and I’m pretty sure that isn’t a Langdonite. Sorry to be profiling on you, Malcolm, but you’re the only connection I can come up with. Marco is hot, but what does he know about getting the truth out of a con, or whether Malcolm’s alibi is legit?
I need a break out of my own head, away from this case, so I went across the street to Tasha’s. I’m also hungry, and wouldn’t mind seeing what goodies Michelle’s mother cooked up today, but seeing as how Michelle and I aren’t what you’d call best friends, I’ll need Tasha to get me into her refrigerator.
“You’re here so I guess they haven’t arrested you again,” Tasha says when she opens her front door.
“That’s not even funny. You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
“All these years being friends, you’d ask me that?”
Tasha was right. It didn’t matter if I bailed on her because I thought hanging with MJ would make my summer more exciting. Just because she started going to tamales happy hour with Michelle on Fridays doesn’t mean we won’t be friends forever.
“My bad.” I was never good with I’m sorry. The great thing about Tasha is she already knows that. “You want to go see Michelle?”
“You mean go and eat some of her mom’s cooking. Don’t your mama ever cook?”
“She works long hours down there at the law office. Even when she is home to cook, it never tastes like the food at Michelle’s.”
“True that. I’ve had your mom’s cooking.”
I knew it wouldn’t take much to convince Tasha, and a few minutes later, I’m sitting at Michelle’s kitchen table eating the best spaghetti and meatballs on the planet. Minus the usual commentary from Michelle about how I’m a freeloader and how her mother’s chicken and biscuits have taken up permanent residence on my hips.
“Second helping, Chanti?” Michelle asks.
“Okay, what’s up?” I ask, handing her my plate for that second helping. “You don’t ever want me over here.”
“That’s not true. I enjoy your company.”
“Seriously, what’s up?” Now it’s Tasha’s turn not to believe Michelle’s act.
“I’m just in a good mood, that’s all.”
“Because . . . ?”
“Because Donnell and I are back together.”
“No, Michelle.” Tasha and I say it at the same time, both of us sounding too done with her.
“Y’all just hating because I got a man. One who cares enough to buy the very best, too. I’ll show you.”
When Michelle leaves the kitchen, Tasha says, “You know anything DTS buys her he bo
ught with drug money.”
Michelle returns, holding her arm in front of her.
“Wow,” Tasha says, taking Michelle’s hand. “Drugs have been very, very good to Donnell. There must have been a run on crack this weekend.”
“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Michelle says, smiling and unfazed by Tasha’s snarky, if accurate, assessment of how Donnell could possibly afford this kind of jewelry. I have to admit Donnell has some good taste, even if he did buy it with drug money. I know the diamonds are real because Donnell is trying to build a rep around the neighborhood that he’s a real G, so he wouldn’t give his girl cubic zirconia.
“Y’all don’t know Donnell like I do. He has a sweet side, you know.”
“Tell that to the guy whose arm he broke when he didn’t pay him for some rock,” Tasha says.
“He’s sweet, but he’s also a businessman.”
“Is that what he calls it?” I ask, thinking Michelle is about as deluded as a girl can get over a guy.
She ignores me and tells us just how sweet Donnell is. “Since I wouldn’t take his calls, he texted me to meet him at the park. When I got there, he had flowers. I tried to tell him no, I didn’t want him back, but then he started kissing on me and I kissed back and next thing you know . . .”
“In the park, Michelle?” Tasha says.
“It was very discreet. No one could see us.”
“Which park did you say this was?” I ask.
“I didn’t. But it was the one on Lexington. And don’t go thinking you might take some boy over there, if you can ever get one. That’s me and Donnell’s spot now.”
“Yeah, your spot and all his buyers’. Oh, I’m sorry. His clients. Since he’s a businessman and all,” Tasha said.
“What you trying to say, Tasha?” Michelle asks, her squeaky voice growing higher-pitched.
“Please, girl. Everybody knows that’s where Donnell handles his business transactions. Well, everyone but you, apparently.”
And me. But now it’s all coming together.
“Can I have another look at your bracelet?” I ask Michelle.
“Jealous, aren’t you?” she says, taking off the bracelet and passing it to me. “Go ahead, have a good look. Next time you come telling me some rumors about Donnell and Rhonda Hodges, you remember how my man treats me.”
I don’t know what I’m looking for since I’ve never seen the bracelet before, but I’m hoping it will jog some memory, some clue. Then I notice something etched in the gold band holding all the diamonds together.
“There’s an inscription. It’s so tiny I can barely read it.”
“I never noticed any inscription,” Michelle says. “That’s so sweet. Let me see.”
I keep the bracelet and check it out with my flashlight key chain.
“It says ‘To Z.B., with love. Daddy.’”
“As in, ‘who’s your daddy?’ Is that your pet name for him?” Tasha says, knowing it isn’t.
“No, and those aren’t my initials. What do you think it means?”
Tasha has a laugh over Michelle’s, um, innocence, and then breaks it down for her. “It means cheap Donnell bought your diamonds from a pawn shop.”
But Tasha has it wrong. It means Donnell DTS is Justin’s dealer, which is why Justin knew that area of the park is usually empty. He’d probably seen the postings that pesticides would be sprayed the day he sent Marco and me there to meet, just extra insurance that no one would be in the park to corroborate our alibi. I bet Lissa doesn’t even have a maid, much less one who lives off Lexington.
I jump up from the table and hug Squeak. I’m sure she and Tasha both think I’ve completely lost my mind. “Thanks for the meal and the lead, but I gotta bounce.”
Much as I want that second plate of spaghetti, I have an ex-con to see.
Chapter 32
MJ opens her front door, finds it’s me, and tries to close it. I raise my hand to keep it open, surprising myself as much as MJ. We both know she could break every bone in my hand without developing a sweat.
“I’m busy. Got homework to do.”
She has a pen tucked behind her ear and by now I recognize it is a Montblanc. Not exactly MJ’s style.
“Nice pen,” I say, pointing to it.
“It was a gift.”
Right, from her rich Uncle Donnell.
“I need some information.”
“I thought you said I can’t help you. So why you here?”
MJ won’t even let me in her house, but steps out on the porch and closes the door behind her. I wish I’d thought of a way to approach her on the short walk to her house, but I was just so excited to solve the crime that now I’m here, empty-handed and with no plan. So I just come out with it.
“How did you know about my arrest, MJ?”
“What?”
“When we talked earlier, you knew all about me getting picked up. How’d you know?”
“Everyone knows.”
“Tasha and Michelle don’t,” I say, because she doesn’t know I told Tasha. “They know every time someone sneezes on this street. You don’t talk to a soul around here, and you got the story.”
“I must have read it in the papers.”
“Never made the paper or the news.”
She doesn’t say anything, so I fill her in.
“There’s only one way you heard about this. Donnell DTS. And he heard it from the kids at my school who set me up to take the fall. Because he’s working with them. It was Donnell those witnesses saw loading that van. Those same kids learned about our arrest at the motel through Donnell because you told him.”
MJ stares at me, still silent.
“Tell me I’m wrong, MJ.”
“I got nothing to say to you.”
“Only thing I haven’t figured out is why Donnell would be talking to you? I mean, it isn’t like either of you are the most outgoing people on the street. Someone might think you’re in on it with him.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t think anything. I know you aren’t. I know you’re serious about leaving all that stuff behind, getting your GED, and going to college, the whole nine. What I don’t know is your connection to Donnell. Why would he talk to you?”
She doesn’t answer.
“MJ, you might have information that will save me.”
“Chanti, I told you . . .”
“So you’re going to let some BS street code send me to jail for something I didn’t do?”
“If you’re innocent, you won’t go to jail.”
“Yeah, ’cause that’s how it worked out for you, right?”
“Your mom’s got connections.”
“Connections got nothing on evidence, MJ. Forget it. I can take care of myself.”
I’m already off her porch when she calls after me.
“One thing I will tell you, Chanti. Don’t cross Donnell. He ain’t the same kid from down the street you grew up with. He ain’t just a small-time corner hustler, either. Stay away from him.”
Chapter 33
I could still hear MJ’s warning in my head when I left for work this morning. Even though my neighborhood is one where you’d better watch your back, I’ve never been afraid to walk down The Ave. But let me tell you, that walk to the bus stop on Center felt a lot longer than a block. The whole time I was expecting Donnell DTS to jump out from behind some bushes or run into me as I turned the corner onto Center. When the bus drove past the park on Lexington, I got chills. But when I spoke to Lana before I left home, I didn’t let on a thing. If she knew what I’d learned so far, she’d put me on lockdown and get Donnell picked up before I had the proof I need. I can already tell Lana isn’t thinking like a cop now that I’m the one with a court date. She’s acting strictly like a mother, and that won’t help me right now.
Marco is already at Mitchell’s when I arrive. Last night when I called him to tell him we still had jobs, I asked him to wait for me if he got there first. I planned to tell him that
I knew who was setting us up and that all we had to do was figure out how to prove it. But I don’t get the chance because just as I walk up to his car, Mr. Mitchell pulls into the parking lot. Sadly, both of his evil spawn are with him and threaten to ruin the best mood I’ve been in since Marco and I were arrested. They get out of the car, too, but hang back, leaning against it.
“Good,” Mr. Mitchell says, walking over to Marco and me. “I’m glad to see you’re both here.”
“Thank you, sir, for giving us the benefit of the doubt,” Marco says in that polite way that makes Mr. Mitchell wish his own son had turned out differently. “Not many people would have let us keep our jobs.”
“There’s no benefit of the doubt. I know you didn’t do it.”
Behind him, Justin is seething. If looks could kill, all of us—including his father—would need every doctor on ER, Grey’s Anatomy, and House to save us.
“Paulette’s going to put you to work this morning on some projects in the office, but later on I have a storage job that I’d like you to take care of.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I ask. I mean, I’m glad he believes in us and all, but I don’t want him risking his business for us any more than he has to.
“The customer is fine with it. Asked for you specifically. It’s my house.”
I think Justin just popped a major artery. He starts to walk over to us, but thinks better of it and instead paces alongside the car. Lissa just rolls her eyes at me.
“We’re doing some remodeling, and I want a few things put into storage. No heavy lifting—the two of you can manage everything. Here’s a list of items and keys to the house. Paulette can get you the address.”
“You won’t be there?” Marco asks.
“No, I’m afraid not. We’ve got some family business we need to take care of today down in Colorado Springs. We’re looking into military school for Justin. Maybe the Air Force Academy can make a man of him. You should have things packed up and gone by the time we get back this evening.”
“You can trust us to take care of it, sir.”
My Own Worst Frenemy Page 20
