“It's gonna take a while. Got a few problems.”
“I understand. I read the papers.”
“I got business to do first, so you'll have to wait,” said T-Bone.
“But my people are restless. We need to move on this thang. We itchin' to make you rich.”
“I need all this shit to die down first.”
“We can't wait that long. We need to go--”
“I think I'm calling the fuckin' shots here,” T-Bone said.
“Yes, yes, my brotha, I didn't mean to suggest otherwise. It's just that we have other people who want to talk to us.”
''I'm the only one in this city who can give you what you want. Anybody else is shittin' you.”
T-Bone knew he had him. The reason the Prince had picked Detroit was because of its centralized drug trade. No other crew in the city could offer him decent money.
“I mean, we have offers, in other cities,” said the Prince.
“Well, I'll see what I can do.” T-Bone circled the block and headed in the direction of the motel where the Prince was staying.
“You know, I didn't think I'd get to meet the man himself,” said the Prince. ''I'm honored.”
T-Bone ignored him. He was feeling him out. The Prince seemed like a classic hustler, the kind of guy who was always on the make. T-Bone wanted to know what his angle was. The Prince had told him that he had a chemist who had discovered the new drug. So, the Prince was pimping that man for his knowledge. That made sense. All T-Bone needed was to look him in the eyes and feel what he was dealing with. For now, he was satisfied.
“I want to set up another meeting with all your people,” said T-Bone. “At that time, I want to see just how you do what you do. I will need the whole setup and I want in writing how it's done or no deal.”
“That's not a problem, my brotha.”
“If anything goes wrong, at any time, I'll have to deal with it.” T-Bone patted the gun.
“I understand, yes. Everything will be cool”
T-Bone pulled back into the motel lot next to the old Chevy van.
“What do I do now?” asked the Prince.
“Wait, lay low, enjoy our city. I'll get back to you.”
“No problem,” said the Prince. The Prince got out of the car. He waited outside until T-Bone had pulled away, then he went back into the room.
“Fuck!” he said as he slammed the door. “This muthafucka is pissin' me off! Nigga want me to wait on him. I ain't got time to wait!”
“I say we ditch this place. We're in too deep this time,” said the Professor.
“Yeah,” said Donna. “This place is wack.”
“When did this become a fuckin' democracy?” said the Prince. “Neither one of you muthafuckas can do shit without me, so just shut the fuck up.”
The Prince sat down hard in a fading red chair. This was going to be harder than he thought. His mind was working on a thousand different ways to move faster to the next stage of his plan.
20
The Handyman Revealed
Tony entered the Sewer and hustled into Jim's office and found it empty. Jim was probably still out running the check on Roberts's mistress.
Tony sat in Jim's chair and waited. He'd spent the morning running around, fighting thoughts of Darryl Simon and the need to confess to Jim again. Even in the heat of this investigation, he could not shake thoughts of GM and Simon and the people he'd murdered ... black people . . . Simon's body falling from the building ....
“Hey, pardner!” Jim said as he entered.
Tony was startled. “What did you find?” he asked, referring to Barbara Volkarwicz. Tony got up and sat on the desk.
“You gonna love what I got. I ran a check on the plates and the car was registered to her, right? Dead end. Big deal. So, I get her Social Security number and run a make on her through want and warrants and the previous offender files. Nothing. Zip. Zero. Just a few minor hooker busts.”
“Yes. And?” Tony adjusted himself on the edge of the desk. He was getting a little upset.
“So, I go to the vice guys and check out their info on call girls. They know her all right, but as far as they know, she's just a hooker. But one of the vice guys tells this story about how he remembers her from a domestic violence case a few years back. Husband tried to choke her when he caught her turning a trick in their bedroom. So I think, married?”
“Why are you doing this to me, Jim?” Tony asked. “You're as bad as Roberts.”
“Well, funny you should mention him, 'cause when I looked up her divorce case, I found out that he's our leak to the media.”
“How so?”
“Well, Little-miss-blue-Saab's maiden name was Barbara Salinsky.”
Tony's mouth hung open. “Well, I'll be damned. I'll just be damned.”
Jim smiled. “Yep. Sisters.”
Tony's eyes widened. “Salinsky uses her sister to get inside information from her high-class johns. She looks like Joe Ace Reporter in the process. Ain't that a bitch!”
“How can we use this to get what we want, though?” asked Jim.
“Easy enough,” said Tony. “We just tell Roberts that we'll give away his secret to the Chief if he doesn't tell us what we want to know. We have to use it on the bastard anyway; to plug the leak.”
Jim nodded.
A middle-aged secretary popped her head into the office. 'Tm sending a call in here to you, Tony.”
“Take a message,” said Tony. “We're busy here.”
“Well, the woman on the phone has been calling all morning, sir. She says it's life or death.”
“It's probably a crank,” said Jim. He stepped to his side of the desk and Tony noticed Jim slip a piece of paper under the blotter into his pocket.
Tony thought a second. “OK, Mildred,” he said. The secretary disappeared from the doorway.
“Hey, pardner, we gotta get moving, remember? Why are you taking calls from strangers? It's probably some nut who wants to confess to killing Kennedy.”
“Well, maybe it's the Handyman,” Tony said quietly.
Jim looked at him as if he were stunned at the possibility.
The phone rang a moment after that. Tony reached across the desk to answer it.
“Inspector Hill.”
“Hello, Officer Hill,” said the female voice on the line.
“Can I help you?”
“No, but I'm here to help you.”
Tony recognized the voice but couldn't place it. “If you don't tell me who you are in two seconds, ['m hanging up. “
“I guess I should have called Fuller, he would recognize my voice.”
“Salinsky? “
“Bingo! You must be a cop.”
Jim came closer when he heard the name. He pointed to the area outside of his door and cupped his hand to his ear, signaling Tony that he was going to listen to the conversation. Tony shook his head.
“What's the scoop?” Tony asked.
“Well, Inspector, I know you guys don't like me 'cause I always know your inside business. But I don't want it said that I have no scruples. See, it takes years of work and savvy to get the connections that I have, and I like to think that I can be called upon to help the cops when they need it.”
Tony suppressed his laugh. Salinsky's years of experience were on her sister's back. “Get to the point,” he said.
“Well, I have certain information that is vital to your investigation of the Handyman. This is information that you yourself don't have. In return for this information, I want an exclusive if you catch the bastard.”
“No deals, Salinsky, “ Tony stalled. This had to be the same information they were going squeeze out of Roberts.
Jim looked at him with wild eyes. It was driving him crazy not hearing the conversation. It served him right for teasing him like he did, thought Tony.
“Then I can't help you. Bye-bye.”
“Wait!” Tony said. “I could get your ass on an obstruction charge you know. “
“I know. But by th
e time the lawyers start to dance, I'll have the information on the air and believe me, you want to hear it first.”
“So, no one else knows this information?”
“Well, let's put it this way: people know, but they're sitting on it.”
“Why?” asked Tony.
“You'll know when you hear it. That is, if you hear it from me.”
Tony paused a moment. “If I agree, how do you know I'll keep my word?”
“I don't really,” said Salinsky. “But I know your reputation. Your word is worth something and if I get it, I believe that you'll keep it. Besides, if you don't, I just won't bother to call the next time.”
Tony smiled to himself. He could see why Fuller hated her. “OK, Salinsky. You have my word.”
Jim watched as Tony listened. He had seen Tony in every imaginable state, but had never seen a look like the one that came over his face at this moment. It was like someone had told him that he had two hearts and then pulled open his chest and showed him. Tony said good-bye to Salinsky and hung up.
Jim looked at him nervously. “What? What?” he asked.
“We don't have to squeeze Roberts. I know what he's hiding,” Tony said slowly.
Jim waited, holding his breath.
“What Roberts brought the Chief were hair samples taken from the bodies of the Handyman's victims.”
“And?” said Jim, about to burst.
“They're blond hairs. Not dyed. Natural, blond hairs.”
“What the fu--”
“And Salinsky's gonna tell the world tonight on the news.”
“Jesus, do you know what that means in this city?”
Tony was silent. He knew all too well. He glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to seven. Salinsky was saving the scoop for the eleven o'clock report. In four hours, the city would start to heat up.
The gravity of the situation was upon him. In Detroit, where racial polarization was a fact of life and racism itself a political tool, he was facing a serial killer whose targets were young black men. The fact that they were drug dealers would not make any difference. It would be seen as whites killing blacks, the worst kind of murder.
Although violence was a common occurrence to blacks in cities, it offended their deepest and most profound sensibilities when whites killed a black. It invoked thoughts of slavery; lynchings, and other hateful atrocities committed over the years.
It was an intolerable act in a community filled with a history of racial oppression. It was almost inconceivable, and the thing that bothered Tony the most was that he'd never even thought of the possibility. Most murders in the city were committed by blacks against other blacks. It was no surprise. The city was between eighty to ninety percent black. But even with that knowledge, no one would care. Even now that he knew, Tony didn't think it possible.
The Handyman was a white man.
21
Roberts
It was the first time that Jim would enjoy going to the Crypt. He and Tony had decided that the news was too important to waste time on. Tony was going to the Chief and the mayor with the story. Jim was given the wonderful duty of telling Roberts that he was the leak. He was going to enjoy every bit of it, too. Roberts was an asshole and he deserved everything that he was going to give him. He walked faster down Beaubien. He was glad not to be going with Tony. He disliked Yancy more than Fuller, if that was possible. The puppetmaster and his star puppet.
As Jim rounded a corner and walked into the Crypt, he paused a second to rehearse his speech. “Fuck it,” he finally said to himself. He was going to wing it. He entered Roberts's reception area and walked past the evening receptionist into Roberts's office.
“Well, you finally fucked up,” Jim said, staring Roberts in the eyes.
Roberts was on the phone seated at his desk. He looked startled and quickly ended his phone conversation.
“You had better have a good reason for this intrusion,” Roberts said.
“Oh, I do,” Jim smiled. “I do. I'm playing a game today, Doctor. It's called 'Guess what I know.”
“I don't want to play your games, officer. Get out of my office. Some of us have work to do.”
Jim closed Roberts's door.
“Look here now,” said Roberts standing. “If you intend some sort of violence--”
“What are you gonna do, Doctor, kick my ass?” Jim smiled like the Devil himself.
“If I have to,” Roberts said in a weak voice.
Jim roared. “Right!” His eyes narrowed. “You know, Doc, I've never liked you.” He moved over to Roberts's desk. The doctor took a half-step back. Roberts was scared and Jim liked it. Jim smiled and sat down across from him. “No, I've never liked you at all.”
“Look, Officer Cole, if you don't get out of here right now, I'm going to call--”
“The police. I know. I'll leave, Doctor, if you want me to.”
“I definitely want you to go,” Roberts said with force.
“Well, OK.” Jim stood and looked straight into Roberts's pale blue eyes. “I just came by to tell you that we know you're fuckin' a prostitute named Barbara Volkarwicz, and she's been leaking your pillow talk to the press.” Jim grinned in his face. “Still want me to leave?”
Roberts looked back at Jim. Denial and lies passed behind his eyes. Finally, his large head lowered and he sat down hard. He stared into space. His head rolled to one side and dangled at the end of his neck. “I suppose I should have known that she was talking.” Roberts looked down at his desk. “Too much was getting out.”
“You're fuckin-A right you shoulda known! You idiot! You're stroking this bitch and the department takes the heat because you can't keep your fuckin' mouth shut!”
Then, to Jim's surprise, Roberts reached across the desk and grabbed him at the collar. “You don't have the right to call her a bitch!” Roberts screamed into his face.
Jim pulled free and stepped back, a little startled and angry. “Now you've really fucked up, boy. I've been waiting for this for a long time.” Jim moved back to Roberts, fists clenched.
The door to the office opened, and the evening receptionist, a heavy-set woman, opened the door and meekly looked inside. “Doctor, is there a problem?” she said almost apologetically.
“No, Jane,” said Roberts. “Excuse our loudness and language. Please, go back to your station.”
Jim looked back at the woman, who was giving him a nasty look. He felt ashamed and childish. He didn't really want to fight Roberts. He unclenched his fists, repositioned the chair and sat down. Jane closed the door and left.
Roberts looked sad. He sat down and stared back into space. “My wife,” he said in a faint voice. “We aren't--”
“Look man, I-” Jim stumbled.
“No, detective, you came here for revenge, right?” Roberts snapped at Jim. “Well, here it is. Dr. Roberts will tell it all just for you.” He looked at him with an intensity Jim didn't think Roberts was capable of. “My wife is a fat, disgusting pig of a woman. She couldn't fuck me even if she wanted to, and if I divorce her, she'll take all the money we've got. Her father is a rich, cheap bastard. He protected her good. So I buy sex from a prostitute 'cause I'm too fucking ugly, dull, and stupid to get it legitimately. Is that what you wanted? A confession? Well, that's it.” Roberts's eyes were misty. “I knew she was telling. Hell, I wanted her to. It made me more valuable to her. Sometimes she wouldn't charge me. We'd just do it like we just wanted to be with each other. Can you believe it, officer? She wanted me? Well, it's true. She wanted me!” Roberts banged his desk.
“Look, I'm sorry, Doc.” Jim almost choked on the words. “I was wrong--”
“Oh no, officer. You wanted this. To humiliate me personally and professionally. You have to listen. It's what you wanted, right?” Jim tried to get up, but he couldn't. Roberts was right. He had come on a mission, but it had backfired. He owed him an car.
“I married my wife for the money. I'm a doctor sure, but not a great one. I wanted real money, so I married this
plump, rich, spoiled brat. Her family loved it. They thought that they would never get rid of her. Her father put most of the money in a trust that is controlled by the family. She won't get the really big payment until she hits fifty. And we can't touch a dime until then. I thought of knocking her off once. Can you imagine that, detective? Funny thing is, I tried to love her. I figured that this was for life, so I should try.” Roberts leaned over the desk. “'The sex was terrible from the start,” he said. “We never did it until we got married. She was a virgin. Can you believe that? And her folks must have told her to layoff the food until she got married, 'cause after the wedding, she put on weight like nobody's business. She ate everything in sight--”
“Doc, [ should go,” said Jim getting up. “I have to prepare for-”
“Can't take it, huh?” laughed Roberts. “You come here to screw with me, then you chicken out. You're a coward. Please, sit, Officer Cole,” he gestured to the empty chair. “You've earned this.”
Jim sat down slowly. He was feeling guilty. He had put his foot in it before, but never had he been in such an awkward situation.
“Before I started with Barbara,” continued Roberts, “my wife and I had not had sex for five years. Five years! As fat as she was, I still tried to do it with her before then. Then she just stopped one day and that was it. No sex. I held out as long as I could. Cold showers, reading books, television. But you know, nothing can replace sex. Eventually, I rented X-rated movies and masturbated.”
Jim groaned.
“Disgusted, detective?” Roberts looked serious. “Well, it gets better. I bought this machine from the back of a porno magazine. It was supposed to simulate oral sex. Damned thing looked like a mouth.” Roberts let out a short, dry laugh. “I used the thing right in the house, too. It was more exciting doing it right under her fat-ass nose for some reason. I used it and it was good. Hell, after going without for so long, anything feels good. I did it with that battery-powered mouth as often as I could. One day, she walked right in on me, caught me with my dick in that thing. She just looked at me. There was no shock or shame. She just looked as if to say, You poor stupid bastard. Then she laughed. Can you imagine that? She laughed at me!”
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