“Enough, children,” said Johnson. “Look, I've read the briefs
and now I've heard argument. I'm ready to rule on the matter. Step back.”
This was going to be a hard-fought trial, Jesse thought. Karen was resourceful and ruthless. She was going to come at him from all angles, fair and unfair. Jesse went to his table shooting her a nasty look.
“Does counsel have anything further?” asked Johnson.
“No, Your Honor.” Jesse and Karen overlapped in response.
“Well, the court is ready to rule,” said Johnson. The reporters all perked up. “Bail is not normally granted in murder cases. It is within my discretion. Mr. King makes an excellent point about our system of justice. The scrutiny of the people is a powerful force and must be respected. However...”
Jesse's heart sank. Dick Steals cursed.
“. . . notwithstanding any deals or courtesies extended before today, I find that Ms. Yancy is neither a substantial flight risk nor a threat to society. Therefore I will set bail accordingly. Bail is set at one million dollars-- cash.”
“We are ready to post bail, Your Honor,” said Karen. She was smiling.
“Okay,” said Johnson. “The court appreciates your speed, Ms. Bell. Preliminary exam will be this Friday unless anyone objects.”
Jesse looked at Dick Steals, who shook his head. Jesse sighed.
“No objection, Your Honor,” Jesse said.
“Defendant is free on bail,” said Johnson. “This matter is adjourned. “
Jesse and Dick Steals tried to keep civil faces for the cameras. They started out of the courtroom but opted instead to follow Louise Yancy and her lawyers, who left out the rear through the judge's chambers.
Jesse was already feeling the pain of the tongue-lashing they would get from D’Estenne. He averted his eyes from Louise Yancy's family, who were giving him nasty looks.
Suddenly, Karen pulled him aside. Jesse was surprised at the force with which she yanked his arm. She pulled him inside a little secretary's room off the judge's chambers. She was close to him, and her scent was wonderful. Jesse looked at her, and for a second he was lost in her beauty.
“Eleven o'clock tonight, our place, and don't bring the white boy.”
Before he could respond, Karen walked away, catching up with her client.
Jesse waited in a dark corner of Mario's, an Italian restaurant in the heart of Detroit's Cass Corridor. The place was busy, so he had requested a table in an empty banquet room.
This had been his and Karen's favorite place. The hushed atmosphere, sweet wines, and exquisite pasta had been their foreplay on many an evening. Jesse couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face. He and Karen once had a good thing, but he confessed that it was mostly lust.
The affair had started almost the moment he first saw her in the lobby of the courthouse. He remembered how Karen had flirted and fidgeted with her wedding ring. They talked about the law and her weak relationship with her husband. She laughed at his jokes, and he boyishly complimented her. Even now Jesse was excited by the memory of that night, knowing that it might happen but not completely sure, waiting for her to open each door of opportunity, then carefully step through. Finally, when they made love, it was in his car, like two high schoolers.
Jesus, Jesse said to himself as he felt an unmistakable swell in his pants, I'm acting like a goddamned kid. He forced the memories from his head, but they were soon followed by even worse thoughts.
His breakup with Karen had been one of the juiciest stories in their circle. Karen had left her husband, Fred, an amiable accountant, and moved in with Jesse. There were rumors that she was pregnant, but that had not been the case.
They were quickly engaged, trying to stop the sting of gossip. But Jesse soon found that Karen was a more remarkable woman than he'd ever imagined. She was brilliant and knew it. She was commanding, powerful, and required a lot of maintenance. Jesse was a capable man but not used to such a dynamic woman. He wanted to hold her, keep her, but by her very nature she would not be held. After the sex had cooled, they were left with only their personalities to build on. It was over within a month.
Karen walked into the secluded room at Mario's. She was still in the blue suit, but the jacket was gone, and the shimmering pearl blouse danced as her breasts swayed underneath. Jesse let out a deep breath. He was still taken by her.
“This had better be good,” he said.
“It is.” Karen sat down. A waiter came, and she ordered a glass of red wine.
“I won't go into that shit you pulled in court today,” said Jesse. “Just tell me what you want, so I can get out of here. “
“All right,” said Karen. “I want to take you into the men's room and fuck you,” she said seriously.
Jesse was exhilarated but managed to hide it. In his mind, however, he was already seeing it.
“Get to it, Karen, or I'm outta here-- now.”
“That was it, really,” she said. “I want you, right now.”
“You never know when to quit, do you?”
“Okay,” Karen said, laughing. “I was hoping you'd developed a sense of humor, but I can see some things never change.”
“I was thinking the same thing about you,” said Jesse.
“Okay, I want you to promise--”
“It's all off the record, Karen,” Jesse said. “You have my word. Go on.”
“Louise Yancy is innocent.”
“Yeah, I know. She told me,” Jesse said sarcastically.
“No, really. I wanted to come here because I'm going to give you her alibi and some other info that's strictly off the record.”
“Tick, tock,” Jesse said impatiently.
Karen took a moment as the waiter brought her wine. She took a deep drink and licked a drop from her lips.
“I needed that,” Karen said. “Okay, Louise Yancy was with Seth Carson the night of the murder from eight until the next morning.”
“Seth Carson?” said Jesse. “President of BoldCom, wannabe mayor of Detroit? Married-for-twenty-years Seth Carson?”
“The same.”
“Okay, when can we take his statement?” he asked. He couldn't hide the interest in his voice.
“Well--”
“Don't even think about it, Karen. Just because Carson is powerful doesn't mean that we're gonna drop this case.”
“I don't want you to.”
“He makes a statement, or no deals whatsoever,” Jesse said. “You and Ira started playing dirty in this case, so you don't get anything unless it's by the book from now on.”
“I don't believe this. You're pissed 'cause I kicked your ass this morning,” Karen said.
“And I am not falling for that one either,” Jesse said. “You will not get me to ‘be a man’ and forget how you sandbagged me.”
“Look, you know I play to win. Try it sometime.”
“I play to find justice,” said Jesse. “It's my job, and unlike a lot of black people in this town, I take it seriously.”
“Oh, please.” Karen crossed her legs. “You need to drop that conservative nigger shit. God knows that's the thing I disliked the most about you. Black conservative. That's a goddamned oxymoron. “
“I am not gonna let the prime suspect in the biggest murder case in Detroit's history quietly walk away because she's having an affair with a wealthy man,” said Jesse. “They're adults. People know what they're getting into when they cheat on their spouse, right?”
Karen winced. Jesse let the thinnest of smiles rise to his lips. He'd hit her below the belt, and it felt good.
“I can see that you'd rather hurt me than try to make headway in this case,” she said softly. She looked hurt, but Jesse wasn't sure. It was difficult to know when she was serious and when she was acting.
“Don't wait for an apology,” Jesse said. “I have changed in some ways.”
“Well, if you're not willing to deal,” said Karen, “we can go our separate way
s.”
“Wait. What about this other information you promised me?”
“No way,” said Karen. “I'll only say if you deal.”
“Will Ms. Yancy go to jail to protect Carson?”
“Yes,” said Karen flatly. “I don't recommend it, but as you know, Louise is a strong-willed woman. And in case you forgot, I plan to have her acquitted.”
“Okay. But how do you know I won't subpoena Carson?”
“Because you're honest, Jesse,” said Karen. “Everybody knows that you'd rather be shot than break your word.”
Karen downed her drink and got up. Jesse rose and reached for his jacket. He was putting it on and thinking about the drive home when Karen turned to him.
“I felt you watching me today,” Karen said. Caught off guard, Jesse was about to deny it, but Karen waved him off. “It's okay, I was watching you too. Only us women are too slick to get caught.”
“Well, you were looking good,” Jesse said. He felt a confession was appropriate.
“It was more than that,” said Karen. “At least it was for me. I was thinking... that we never really knew why we were together. We thought it was love, then sex. Then we thought it was a mistake. Finally we became friends. People stay married on less than that, Jesse.”
“Karen, I don't think we should--”
“I was thinking today that if I had done one thing differently back when we were together, we might be married right now. I'd have a life outside the law.” She took a step toward him. “I haven't had a real boyfriend since you. There aren't as many good men out there as I thought. I've had old rich men, up-and-comers, who like me on their arm, and pretty boys, looking for someone prettier than they are. And I rolled over all of them, just like I did you and my ex-husband. I came here to make a deal, but in my heart I was wondering about my chances with you.”
Karen looked sad and beautiful standing there before him. Jesse was barely holding himself together. He was fighting the urge to embrace her. He found himself stronger than he thought.
“Sorry, but I can't get involved with you again, Karen,” said Jesse.
She quickly closed the distance between them and kissed Jesse. He never thought about stopping her. He grabbed the back of her head and inhaled the scent of her hair, perfume, and the wine she'd drank. Karen pushed her body into his and hugged him tightly. He felt her breasts under the silky blouse. They moved in unison, hands roving, enjoying their transgression. She pulled her tongue out of his mouth, lingering a moment to plant a kiss on his lips.
“Needed that more than the drink,” she said. And then she was gone.
15
Florence
“You gotta fuckin' be shittin’ me, Jesse!” said the woman. She leaned back on her wooden chair in a cramped office in the basement of Frank Murphy. Jesse had just told her what Karen Bell had said to him the night before. “She's a lying sack of cow shit, and you know it.”
“Florence, I just need you to ask a few questions about what Crawford and his people are doing,” said Jesse, “and do a little checking on Seth Carson.”
“Man, Karen Bell musta spread 'em for you right in the goddamned parking lot,” said Florence.
Florence Connor was a former cop. She was forty-five, white, and very ornery. She was now an investigator for the prosecutor's office because her drinking problem had driven her from regular active duty. She hadn't completely kicked the habit, and desk duty kept her from being on the street waving a gun.
Florence and Jesse had first met on a murder case a few years back. He had been losing badly when Florence found the murder weapon. The defendant had taken the gun apart and hidden the pieces. Florence had known the model of the weapon and found a piece sticking out of the dirt in the backyard. A search revealed the rest of the weapon hidden in various places. She was a mess socially, but when it came to the job, she was sharp, methodical, and, most important, trustworthy.
A picture of a younger Florence stood on her desk. In it she was a beautiful young woman with red hair. Florence's face was now etched with lines from too much worry and too much drinking. Her eyes were world-weary, her red mane was streaked with gray, and she'd added a few extra pounds.
Jesse didn't even think of Florence as a woman. She had a way about her that was like a guy. A lot of women cops were like that. It's what it took to fit in sometimes.
“I just need you to look into this for me, okay?” said Jesse.
Florence lit a cigarette. “Louise Yancy and Carson, two old farts, fuckin' like kids. It's too far-out, Jesse.”
“Hey, old people do have sex, you know. And if I add that to the holes in this case, I get something really big.”
“A cover-up,” said Florence. “I'm way ahead of ya. Take my advice, Jesse, let this shit go. You know how Detroit is. When it gets like this, you step aside or you get fucked.”
“We're talking about obstruction of justice at the least, Florence. I can't ignore that.”
“Aw, fuck that motherfuckin' garbage. Sometimes you just gotta piss on that legal shit.”
“You eat with that mouth?” asked Jesse.
“Comes with the badge,” said Florence. She liked her foul mouth for some reason. For her, cursing was almost an art form.
“Maybe,” said Jesse. “But I tell you, that kind of language is not very ladylike. I mean, you are a woman, you know.”
“Suck my dick.” Florence laughed, and Jesse couldn't help but join her. “Hey, you know I'll help you,” she said. “But these kinds of things can be fucked if you get caught.”
“But you're gonna do it, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, but if this thing blows, I don't know you.”
“Cool,” said Jesse. “And another thing. I need to find a cop named Walter Nicks.”
“That crazy bastard?” Florence's eyes widened. “What for?” “He might have been at the scene of the crime.”
“Hell, if Nicks was there, he probably did the crime,” said Florence. “Fuckin' Vietnam whack job.”
“Then he should be easy to find,” said Jesse. “I looked over the mayor's phone records, and his calls all seem innocent. Yancy made hundreds of calls every day, but on the day he was killed, he only made six calls-the whole day.”
“No shit,” said Florence. “To who?”
“He made one to his wife; that figures. He made one to a
minister. I'm gonna meet him today. He made one to the Chapel, Swiss law firm. The lawyer he called, Louis Franklin, is on vacation. “
“Conveniently,” said Florence. “The others were made to Manoogian Mansion. And he made one to the infamous Michael Talli.”
Florence straightened in her chair.
“Talli. The mob guy? That's where I'd be looking.”
“No one's ever proven that,” said Jesse. “But I know Talli had millions invested in bringing casinos to Detroit. And Yancy was trying to distance himself from him. Talli's alleged underworld connection made getting casinos that much harder.”
Detroit's leaders had been thinking about bringing casinos to the city as a way of saving the ailing economy. But time and time again community leaders, especially ministers, had thwarted the effort. While the debate raged, Windsor, a city across the river in Canada, had put in a casino, and it raked in the cash-- Detroit cash. Every weekend the hardworking people of the city went across the river and lost their shirts.
Yancy, envious of the half billion in gaming revenues generated by a city just across the river, had turned up his efforts to get casinos before his death.
Jesse got up. “I gotta go. I only have a few days to prepare my preliminary examination.”
“Shit, they are rushing it, aren't they?” said Florence. “Wanna drink?” She pulled out a bottle.
“I need one, but I'll pass,” said Jesse. “Too early.”
He walked to the door as she poured a drink. Florence was good, but Jesse was worried. He feared for her safety. They were chasing shadows, but in Detroit even a shadow could be dangerous.
They'd even been known to kill.
“Florence?”
“Yeah, Jesse?”
“Watch your back.”
16
MACs & Manoogian
Jesse walked through the big church. It was a huge tabernacle richly appointed with expensive wood and stained glass, but he hardly noticed the opulence. He'd been in the Church of God before.
COG, as it was sometimes called, was a political church. In the black community political and economic power had always rested heavily in the church. And COG was as big as they came.
Every politician in the state as well as several presidents had spoken there. The who's who of Detroit's black elite all belonged. Jesse remembered that Ellis and his wife, Penny, had been married there. His fiancée, Connie, was a member too.
Jesse followed an old black woman through the sanctuary into the back of the building. COG was a complex with three buildings that took up an entire city block.
Jesse was led into a large conference room. It was beautiful, decorated in redwood. It could have been the den of a wealthy businessman or a celebrity, but it was the conference room of the pastor of COG, Oscar Paul, Jr., called Reverend Junior by everyone.
Reverend Junior sat at the head of a long wooden table. A medium-built man, of about forty, he was average-looking with light brown skin marked by a nasty-looking patch of acne. He wore nerdy black-rimmed glasses and sported a small Afro.
Reverend Junior had a degree from Harvard and had studied divinity at Princeton. He was on every list of prominent young leaders in the country. In a business that was crowded with self-ordained and suspect men of God he was the real deal.
Reverend Junior was seated with three other black ministers of various ages. They looked imposing in their dark suits and white collars. They were the members of MAC, Ministers Against Casinos. When Mayor Yancy and prominent businessmen tried to bring gambling to Detroit, Reverend Junior had put the MACs together and stopped them. And as the casino plans continued, the MACs foiled each try, building power and support in Detroit's communities.
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