Every time Marco speaks, I’m pretty sure Justin wants to punch out a window of the car. His whole body tenses up, and the crazy thing I saw in his eyes that first day at football practice just flares. When he puts his hand in his pocket, I almost want to duck and run, and I’m relieved when he only produces his phone.
“One other thing,” Mr. Mitchell is saying, “it’s probably best you wait until after two o’clock. It’s the housekeeper’s cleaning day, and she hates it when people are there and getting in her way.”
So they do have a maid. I think I have enough other evidence for my theory about Justin, Lissa, and Donnell to hold up, but this does put a little crack in it.
“Your housekeeper. Lissa mentioned her once. Said she lives in my neighborhood, off Lexington.”
“Off Lexington? Lissa’s never been good with directions. The woman lives on the other side of town.”
Excellent. No more little crack, and it only strengthens my theory. Why would Lissa lie about that unless she didn’t want me to know the reason she knew my neighborhood. Her stuck-up phony self would never be anywhere near my ‘hood unless she was with her brother when he made his deals with Donnell.
“We’ll stay out of her way. We won’t get there until three o’clock, just to be sure,” Marco says.
“Perfect,” Mr. Mitchell says, lingering for a moment, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want to leave. I get the feeling he’d rather stay with us than go deal with his family business. I mean, just look at his family. “Where did Justin go?”
“I think he left to make a phone call.”
Now it’s Mr. Mitchell’s turn to look like he might go postal.
“If you see him on your way in, please tell him I’m in the car waiting, and that I’ll be very angry if I have to come in there and get him.”
Now I won’t be able to share my theories with Marco because it won’t look good if we don’t go inside, and I’m certain Mr. Mitchell is hoping we find Justin and pass along his message. Otherwise if he has to go in there looking for him, we might have to call the police down here on a domestic. Inside the warehouse, we not only see Justin, but run smack into him.
“Yeah, you better be in a hurry,” I say, feeling tough with Marco there to back me up. “Your dad’s waiting for you.”
“Just stay out of my business. Come to think of it, stay out of my room while you’re at my house. I’d hate for something to come up missing.”
He flashes the smile of the devil, and I can’t help but think I just made a deal with him without even knowing the terms.
Chapter 34
On the way to the Mitchell house, I fill Marco in on what I know—that Justin and Lissa are behind the thefts at school, and they’re Donnell’s scouting team on the home thefts. I even tell him that I’m worried about doing the Mitchell job because of what Justin said before he left this morning. Mr. Mitchell might have all the faith in the world in us, but that doesn’t mean he won’t believe his kid when he claims we stole something out of his room, whether anything is missing or not. I mean, it isn’t like Mr. Mitchell has an inventory of his whole house, and even if your kid is Justin, won’t you believe him over two people you hardly know?
When Marco pulls up to the house at the address Paulette gave us, I notice a furniture-rental van parked across the street.
“That’s weird,” I say.
“What specifically? Everything you just told me is unbelievable.”
“A furniture-rental van in this neighborhood. Look at these houses. I doubt these people have to pay for their furniture by the month at jacked-up interest rates. That’s how we do it on our side of town.”
“Nah, I know people just like that. You know those guys—pushing a Mercedes SLK and can’t afford to put more than two gallons of gas in it until payday.”
“You think?”
“I bet some people around here are probably faking rich, and really living check to check just like our families do.”
Marco is probably right, though I’d expect these folks to be a little more discreet. Even if you are faking your wealth, shouldn’t you try to keep it on the down low? Not to mention the tacky furniture this company rents, and I ought to know ’cause half my furniture comes from Rooms-4-Cheap. But hey, at least we bought ours. No renting by the month for Lana. At least not after she paid twice what it was worth with the rent-to-own option.
When we walk into the house, it’s clear the Mitchells don’t know anything about Rooms-4-Cheap. I think everything in the living room alone costs more than a year’s mortgage payments on our house.
“This place is amazing,” I say, feeling like I just walked into a movie-set living room.
“I don’t know how Justin and Lissa could want even more than this.”
“That’s the problem. They had everything they wanted until their dad cut them off. And rather than Justin giving up his weed . . .”
“That dude is on something stronger than chronic.”
“Well, whatever he’s on, instead of giving that up and rather than Lissa let on to her clones that she could no longer afford the high life, they came up with this plan to work with Donnell. I think they’re planning a whole operation. They started with the school thefts, but that won’t buy much. Then after the break-in at Annette’s house, with me as the fall girl, they came up with the idea of hitting Mitchell clients.”
“But how long could that last?” Marco asks. “I mean, if they keep hitting Mitchell clients, after a while, there would be no clients and eventually the cops would trace it back to someone at Mitchell’s. Like us. With us in jail, who takes the fall?”
“I know, that’s what I don’t get. The operation would fall apart just as soon as it began. But if Justin is the mastermind, we know he’s missing a whole lot of brain cells. If Donnell Down-the-Street came up with all of this—well, let’s just say he’s in no danger of being arrested for being brilliant, that’s for sure. When we were kids, he held the record on our street for going the longest without finding anyone in a game of hide-and-seek.”
“How you know I wanted to find your ugly self?”
Uh, okay, either Marco just changed his voice and got really mean, or we aren’t alone. Before I turn around, I already know who it is, along with the terms of that deal with the devil.
“Donnell, where did you come from? How’d you get in here?”
“You oughta know. Didn’t you just break it down for your boyfriend, here?”
“I was just talking. . . .”
“Yeah, but you got it right. Mostly right. I ain’t half as stupid as you think. You the one going to jail for this, not me.”
“Who is this lunatic? Going to jail for what?” Marco asks, looking like he’s about to jump bad on Donnell. While I’m sure Marco has game, Donnell has a couple years and some jail time on Marco. He might be a small-time drug dealer, but even they carry. And I know for a fact Donnell DTS does because Michelle told me. So I channel Lana, and think of a way to diffuse a potentially volatile situation.
“Look, Donnell, you want the stuff? We’ll help you box it up and put it in your van.”
“What van?”
“The Rooms-4-Cheap van out there.”
“That ain’t none of my van because I’m not here for this small-time crap. See, Chanti, you’re almost as smart as I am. You’re right about how the whole thing would have fallen apart before I got any real loot out of it. I mean, it’s falling apart now, right? You about to go to jail, Mitchell about to lose his business up his son’s nose.”
“So what are you here for if not the stuff on the list? Isn’t this what Justin called and told you to pick up?”
“It is, but I had a better idea. I’m gonna wait for Mitchell to get home and get a little information from him—like his keys, credit cards, and security codes to all his warehouses.”
“You can’t hit every warehouse before the cops catch you, Donnell.”
“You are smart, Chanti. I can’t do it by myself, that’s righ
t. But see, I got me a whole operation, like a network. I know what you been telling Michelle. You think I’m just a corner hustler, but I got more skills than that.”
“Is that what this is all about? Me telling Michelle you’re bad news? Everybody on The Ave knows that, Donnell.”
“Yeah, but for some reason, she listens to you. I love that girl, and you messed it all up for me.”
“Okay, Donnell, this is touching and everything, but I know you. You aren’t doing all this just to take me down for breaking up your little relationship.”
“Of course not. You got yourself one smart female, amigo.”
Marco steps to Donnell, which is when he confirms what I already knew. Donnell is strapped, and now it’s unstrapped.
“Back it up, chico. Don’t try to act tough for your girl. Let’s all just settle in and wait for Daddy Millionaire to come home and make me rich. Both of you, on the couch.”
Marco doesn’t want to, but I take his arm and drag him to the couch. Heroics will only get us both killed if Donnell gets spooked. Lana always says in this kind of situation, it’s best to keep everything calm. I know Donnell. I know his mama. I even know his favorite thing to buy off the ice cream truck on a hot summer day is the Banana Bomb. He won’t hurt me. He’s only trying to scare me. But then I remember the last thing MJ said to me, and I get queasy. Maybe he isn’t the same kid I grew up with.
“You were friends with this freak?” Marco asks.
“I wouldn’t call it friends, but we’ve known each other since we were little.”
“That was a long time ago, Chanti,” Donnell says, as if I need reminding. I kinda got that point when he pulled his gun.
“Are you going to kill us, Donnell?”
“Not unless you do something stupid. I need you to take the fall for this. It won’t help me if you’re dead. But I only really need one of you, so keep that in mind.”
“What about Mr. Mitchell? He’ll know we didn’t do this. He’ll vouch for us.”
“Yeah, that’ll be hard for him to do when he’s dead. You’ll be taking the heat for that too. Cops’ll buy that better if he does it,” Donnell says, waving his gun at Marco. “They never believe girls will kill somebody.”
I know for a fact this isn’t true, but I don’t interrupt. If I can keep Donnell calm and talking, maybe I can think up some way to keep Mr. Mitchell from getting killed, and Marco and me off death row.
“It’ll go down like this: Mitchell catches y’all in here robbing the place, says y’all are going to jail for good once he calls the cops, and amigo here loses it and kills him. I think the cops will believe that. So watch yourself, Chanti—you screw up and you’re the one to go. You are expendable.” He laughs at this last line. “Sounds like something from the movies, am I right?”
“Donnell, you can’t be serious about all of this.”
“What part of me holding a nine on you don’t you find serious?”
Well, he has a point there. I’m trying to think of a comeback that won’t get me killed when we hear the sound of a garage door opening.
“Daddy’s home early,” Donnell says. “I think I’ll meet him at the door. Don’t move. Remember, I only need one of you alive.”
Of course, I’m glued to the sofa cushion because, as we’ve already determined, I am a wuss. But the minute Donnell turns his back on us, Marco jumps up and tackles him to the floor. The gun goes flying out of Donnell’s hand and for once, I know what to do. I’m afraid of a lot of things, but not a gun, at least not when I’m the one holding it, thanks to all those lessons at the shooting range with Lana.
Just as I turn the gun on Donnell, who is giving Marco a hell of a fight down there on Mr. Mitchell’s living-room floor, four guys come through the door and they have guns, too. I’m a pretty good shot, but there’s no way I’m taking down four guys and this is one scenario Lana never told me how to handle, because really—when would this kind of thing ever happen to me? But now it has and I think I’m about to lose it, until I realize these aren’t friends of Donnell. They have badges hanging from chains around their necks. Undercover cops. You’d think I’d be relieved, but all I can think of is how this scene looks to a cop and how screwed I am.
Chapter 35
“We got this, Chanti,” one of the detectives says, almost in a whisper, and that’s when I realize I know him. He’s grown a beard since the last time I saw him, and I’m pretty sure his dark hair used to be blond, but he works with Lana.
I point the gun to the floor and hand it over, relieved that I no longer had to figure out what came next. I want to ask him how he knew, and where Lana is, but the minute I open my mouth he shakes his head, reminding me that even in this situation, I have to keep Lana’s cover. Then he nods in the direction of the door, and I understand that the Rooms-4-Cheap van wasn’t Donnell’s getaway car. It’s a surveillance van and Lana’s been out there all this time. Another detective handcuffs Donnell, freeing Marco to wonder what the hell just happened.
“Let’s go outside, Marco. They don’t need us in here,” I say, surprising even myself at how official and businesslike I sound, when really I’m trying hard not to lose my lunch.
“What just went down?” Marco says, still stunned.
“What went down is you took out the bad guy. If you hadn’t tackled him, who knows how that would have played out.”
“But how did the cops know? I thought you hadn’t told anyone your theory.”
“That’s what I’d like to find out myself.”
Two uniformed cops come up to us. One leads Marco away, saying the paramedics want to check him out and make sure he’s not hurt. I assure Marco that it’s okay, the cops are on his side this time, and he believes me, which makes this day better and not quite the living hell it ought to be. The other cop takes me to the Rooms-4-Cheap van and opens the back door. Lana’s in there looking terrified, which nearly knocks me over because I’ve never seen her afraid of anything. She hugs me so hard that it takes my breath away, and I have to squirm out of her arms before I hyperventilate.
“Why didn’t you tell me about all this, Chanti?”
“Because you would have locked me in the house and I’d never have a chance to figure it out. I needed proof. All the evidence pointed to Marco and me. I needed to find a way to prove it wasn’t us.”
“And almost got yourself killed in the process.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“Your new friend told me.”
“New friend? Bethanie? She didn’t know anything about Donnell.”
“The other one. The one I misjudged.”
“MJ talked to you?”
I try to imagine MJ willingly going to a cop and it seems impossible.
“Last night when I got home she was sitting on our porch, waiting for me.”
“Didn’t you get in late?”
“About two in the morning and the porch was dark. I almost had a heart attack, but only after I almost shot her. She isn’t the brightest girl, but you could do worse for a friend.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She was worried about you. Said you were playing girl detective with someone who was more dangerous than you realized.”
“But I still don’t get the connection between her warning you and you finding me here.”
“Well, we both had a part in that. At first I didn’t believe anything she was telling me because once a con, always a con. But she didn’t have to wait on the porch all night for me to come home. And like I said, I did come this close to shooting her and she still wanted to tell me that you were in trouble. So I put a GPS tracker on your cell phone and dropped a bug in your purse.”
I want to go off on her about the indignity of being surveilled by your own mother, but it’s hard to talk about principles when your mom’s snooping saves your life. Instead I say, “Couldn’t you guys have come in before he pulled the gun.”
“We didn’t see that coming. I knew Donnell had gone bad, bu
t you guys grew up together. I didn’t think he’d really hurt you or anyone else.”
“I guess he fooled us both on that count.”
“We were hoping the Mitchells would come home and we could get more on tape. But don’t worry. We have plenty on tape to clear you and Marco. And by the way? Your boyfriend? This is how I have to find out you have a boyfriend? That was kind of embarrassing to listen to with the guys in the truck.”
I can see this feel-good moment going places I’d rather it not, so I ask, “What was MJ’s part? You said you both had a part in making the connection that Donnell would come here for me.”
“Oh. Right. She can give you those details herself. Let’s go home.”
“Don’t I have to make a statement?”
“You can make a statement tomorrow. I want you home with me tonight where I can keep an eye on you.”
“But you already got the bad guy.”
“Yeah, well. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
That’s a little cryptic, but at the moment I’m more concerned with making sure Marco isn’t afraid to talk to me ever again for fear I’ll get him shot at, extorted, or framed.
“What about Marco? I should probably talk to him. He’s probably all stressed out. He’s not used to this kind of thing.”
“I don’t want you getting used to it, either. Let me make sure they’ve already taken Donnell in, then I’ll let you talk to him, but only for two minutes. Then we’re out of here.”
Lana opens the doors of the van, and the bright glare of the late afternoon sun shocks my eyes. In the few minutes I was inside the van, I’d forgotten it was still light out.
“Wait, Mom. Can I tell Marco about you?”
“Well, he is your boyfriend. Go ahead, tell him all about me. That way I can go over and meet him and tell him all about you.”
“Never mind. I’ll keep your cover.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says, and smiles at me before she walks out into the sunlight.
Chapter 36
When we get home, MJ is waiting on the porch again. By now the sun has gone down. Apparently having Lana draw her gun on her didn’t scare her off this habit, which makes me think I was right about MJ being the bravest person I know, or that Lana was right and maybe she’s not a Mensa society candidate. But Lana was definitely right about the other thing—I could do worse when it came to finding a friend.
My Own Worst Frenemy Page 21
