Jesse hardly noticed his fiancée or Ellis and his wife, Penny, a pencil-thin woman with an annoying needle nose. Ellis and Penny had been ecstatic when Connie told them they were getting married. Ellis had immediately told Jesse that he had to have the wedding at COG. Connie was a member, so it was the socially correct thing to do. Jesse was noncommittal. After talking with the MACs, he doubted he would ever want to go there again.
Jesse glanced around the room at the celebrity crowd. His eyes stopped suddenly at a table on the far side of the room. A group of white men sat quietly in a corner listening to the speech. Jesse recognized one of them as Michael Talli, a contractor and casino proponent. Talli was a bulldog of a man. He was about fifty, overweight, and eternally angry-looking. Talli had a head full of thick black hair that made him look younger but no less menacing.
Talli was surrounded by four men in dark suits. They should have just had a sign that read Mafia. Jesse couldn't take his eyes off the men. Talli was a local businessman, but why did he care about Brownhill's thinly disguised political campaign? Mob guys always care about politics, he reasoned.
Talli's construction company had been the target of a RICO suit several years back. The feds thought that Talli had engineered a hit on a rival contractor and forced several others to work under him, sharing profits and contracts. The case fell apart when key pieces of video and audio surveillance magically disappeared.
Jesse tore himself away from Talli long enough to notice that Brownhill was finishing his speech.
“. .. it's no secret that Detroit is in financial trouble,” said Brownhill. He had a strong, commanding voice, with just a hint of tight-jawed East Coast influence. “We need to stop dreaming up fly-by-night ways to fix the problem and look at long-term solutions. The New City Project, revitalizing the east side will be the start of that solution.”
The room was filled with mostly white people, all well heeled and intelligent-looking. But there was a good number of black people there too. Ellis had done a fine job darkening up the place, Jesse thought.
Brownhill finished, and the crowd applauded wildly, standing. He descended the podium with Blue and Gibbs at his side, handshaking his way out of the room. The big bodyguards followed them closely. Brownhill, Blue, and Gibbs went over to Mayor Crawford and took several photos.
Jesse watched Talli and his men get up and wade into the crowd. No one knew for sure if Talli was a real criminal, but he seemed to enjoy the infamy the rumors brought. Talli and his men cockwalked around the room, swaggering like made men.
Jesse went cold as he saw Brownhill, Gibbs, and Blue come his way, followed by a throng of reporters. The group stopped at Jesse's table. Ellis fell all over himself shaking their hands.
“This is my friend Jesse King,” said Ellis. “But I guess everyone knows him by now.”
The three partners shook Jesse's hand, each complimenting him and wishing him luck. Gibbs almost choked on his words. As a black man he didn't like the fact that another black man was prosecuting the first lady of Detroit.
The three partners flanked Jesse, and the cameras exploded with flashes. Ellis quietly slipped into the shot, making sure to be close to Brownhill.
The flashes stopped, and Brownhill hurried away, pressing more flesh on his way out of the door.
“Thanks, Jesse,” said Ellis. “This will mean a lot to my career.” Then Ellis grabbed Penny and hurried behind the partners as the crowd moved on.
Talli and his men intercepted Brownhill in the middle of the floor. Brownhill's bodyguard went up to Talli and said something. Talli turned red and did an abrupt about-face. He walked back to his table.
“Now I know why Ellis wanted me here,” said Jesse. “Just a photo op to boost his presence at the firm.”
“Oh, you loved it,” said Connie. “You'll look great in tomorrow's paper.” Jesse and Connie sat back down. “So, did you ever resolve that situation with your sister?” asked Connie.
“What?” said Jesse. “Oh, that. Yes, I did. I'm giving her kids the money.”
“Is that wise?” asked Connie. “I mean, those kids might use it for something bad too.”
“Those kids? You said it like they're criminals or something.” Jesse was mad.
“Are you okay?” Connie looked at him with concern.
Jesse caught himself. Connie was too sweet ever to be condescending to him and his family. He suddenly felt guilty about snapping at her.
“No. I'm not okay.” He waited a moment, then said: “I had a drink with Karen Bell last night.”
“Oh?” Connie said.
“Yes, she met me at Mario's and--”
Jesse looked around. There were too many people within earshot. He walked Connie over to a window, away from everyone. He noticed the jealous look on Connie's face. Karen was an eternal sore spot.
“Karen made an offer in the case. I refused it, but when I think about it, it all makes sense. I think maybe Louise Yancy is innocent.”
“Jesse, are you sure?”
“No, but it's a strong feeling. I've done so many cases I can tell when something is not right. Louise Yancy wasn't sleeping with her husband, but she had no reason to want him dead. My boss wants this case closed yesterday, and Crawford, the acting mayor, has offered to railroad Ms. Yancy if we need it.”
“What?”
“You didn't hear that, please,” said Jesse. “I shouldn't have said it. Look, if I’m on edge, just bear with me, okay?”
“Of course I will, Jesse,” said Connie.
“I'm sorry,” he said. And he kissed her, a deep, loving kiss.
“Well, that sure was nice. You, kissing in public. I think I like it.” She smiled and wiped lipstick off his face.
They walked back to their table and made small talk with several of their colleagues. Jesse was tempted to tell Connie about Karen and the passionate kiss, a full confession of his sin, but he thought better of it. There were some things a fiancée didn't need to know.
Jesse took a drink of water and looked across the room for Talli and his men. But they had disappeared.
19
Custody
LoLo was pissed. She had barely escaped the cops. She'd run like hell and lost her pursuer, then jumped a fence and hid in a garage. The cop had run right past her and never come back. While crouched in the foul-smelling garage, LoLo had heard shots fired. So she waited awhile; then, against her better judgment, she doubled back and saw the cops arresting Ramona. Ramona was bent over as she was pulled into the police cruiser.
Cane was smarter than even she'd thought. He'd set them up but good. Never would she have imagined that he'd call the police. It was an unwritten law between rollers, but apparently Cane didn't give a shit about that street code.
LoLo sat with Yolanda and a roller named Marly in a motel on the far east side. LoLo had told her people to tighten up all operations and carry extra firepower until further notice. It was dangerous for them all to be strapped and risk a weapons charge, but she was planning her next move, and this time there would be no waiting.
Marly was a pretty young woman with a baby face and an hourglass figure accented by a large chest. She looked older but was only eighteen. She was a new street dealer in LoLo's crew.
LoLo had lured her away from her boyfriend, a wannabe rapper who called himself Bugsy. LoLo got close to Marly and talked her into joining her crew part-time. Bugsy found out and went postal. He came to one of LoLo's houses brandishing a gun, screaming about killing “all them bitches.” LoLo and Yolanda beat him so badly that he was in the hospital for over a month. Marly joined the crew full-time after that. She was another hothead, but she was tough, and that was what LoLo needed right now.
“So what if she drops on us?” asked Marly.
“Mona won't do that,” said LoLo. “Besides, she don't know anything to tell about us.”
“I don't trust her,” said Marly. “For all we know, she brought the cops down on you.”
LoLo had already thought abou
t that, but it didn't make sense. Ramona was a prissy little bitch, but she was loyal and part of the family. “Ramona ain't dirty. And the cops beat her ass good when they picked her up.”
“How we gone do it?” asked Yolanda. She seemed to be upset about recent events.
“I don't know,” said LoLo. “Ramona gave me an idea, though, and I'm gonna need you for it, Marly. I'm gonna need that gunman, the white boy, what's his name?” asked LoLo.
“Pierre,” said Yolanda.
“Right,” said LoLo. “I want some special gear for this.”
The killers tore the room apart. They broke the old, faded furniture and ripped gaping holes in the walls with a sledgehammer. The drug house was deserted, and they were searching for the black metal case Ramona Blake had carried.
The Blake girl was associated with the drug-pushing women called the Nasty Girls. They also knew that she had stayed in this house, but so far there was no sign of the case.
The man who'd worn the red mask breathed audibly as he worked. His chest wound was wrapped in thick bandages that inhibited his breathing. He rubbed his ravaged face, then pulled open an old storage door and peered inside. Nothing but cobwebs and dust inside.
“It's not here,” he said.
“Fuck!” said his partner, the larger of the two. He tossed the sledgehammer to the floor. “She's gotta have it with her,” said the wounded killer. “The cops got her ass. She probably hid it somewhere before they got her. Don't be so fuckin' stupid.”
“Fuck you,” said the wounded man. “I got cut by that bitch. And I ain't forgot that you stabbed me the second time.”
The larger man looked at his partner with rage. Then he picked up the big hammer and walked over to him. He was a full four inches taller and dwarfed the other man.
“You looking to get me for that?” he said. The heavy hammer hung in his right hand.
“You don't wanna be walking up on me with that thing. I'll shove it up your goddamned ass.”
“We're only in this mess because you couldn't kill one little skinny ass bitch.”
“I suppose it was just luck that she cold-cocked your stupid ass with that briefcase.”
The bigger man took a half step toward the other. The wounded man jumped back, reaching for the gun in his waistband. The big man stopped, letting the hammer fall on the floor.
“Okay,” said the big man. “No need for us to get on each other over this thing. We're both on the hook here.”
“All right by me. Just watch your mouth.”
The big man walked away, and the two men stood in silence for a moment. Each of them knew the consequence of failing again. Yancy's execution had been botched, but that situation had been calmed down. The Blake girl was in prison, and no one was the wiser. The only missing element needed to close the matter was the black case and its contents.
Ramona was a smart and resourceful woman. She had eluded them twice. But now the law had her, and to get away from them, she needed cold, hard evidence. The contents of the black case were the only thing that could set her free. She was going to have to go for it sooner or later.
“It's not in here,” said the big man. “I'm afraid we're gonna have to take her.”
Ramona hurt all over. Her skin was bruised badly, and the cops had done a nice little number on her ribs. She groaned as she sat up in her cell at 1300. They'd at least taken the time to have a doctor fix her up. The cops would deny ever beating her, or they would lie and say she resisted arrest.
Ramona understood the gravity of her situation. Though she'd been brought in on drug charges, after they ran a check on her fingerprints, it was only a matter of time before they came up with her name. Her criminal record had never been expunged, so she was sure that they would ID her. After that happened, she was in deep trouble.
A tray of food had been placed in the cell, but Ramona had no appetite. She just wanted to get out. She was sure that whoever killed Yancy and tried to kill her would find out where she was and finish the job. In prison she was a sitting duck.
And she had never gotten a chance to open the briefcase to see if whatever was inside could help her. The case. Good thing LoLo had hidden it in the house under the floorboards. No one would ever find it there. She had instructed LoLo to take the case and keep it with her if anything ever happened to her.
Footsteps. Coming her way.
A uniformed officer led the way, and behind her was a big white cop dressed in plainclothes. Ramona looked at his jowly face. It was unfamiliar, yet she hated him all the same.
“Well, Ms. Blake,” said the plainclothes cop, “looks like you've saved us the trouble of finding you.”
20
The Hidden Truth
Jesse's little office was filled with charts, reports, and forensic manuals. He had a preliminary examination coming, but he wasn't too worried about it. They'd pulled Judge Victor Power. He was a good judge, who never compromised his ethics. Jesse didn't think Power would spring Louise Yancy in a prelim.
But the trial would be a different matter. Their case was weak. Louise Yancy was a beloved woman who seemed credible. And they had a lot of things to explain, things that would not get by the watchful eye of Karen Bell. On one chart Jesse listed the areas where the defense would try to take their case apart:
Unknown blood sample
Immaculate murder scene
Alleged woman-- unknown
Mayor's bodyguards gone
“We're in trouble,” Jesse mumbled to himself. He could see reasonable doubt right there on the board. Even if they could use all the evidence they had against Louise Yancy in court, a jury could take anyone of those elements and think that someone else had killed the mayor.
Jesse went to the board and wrote in:
Louise Yancy alibi?
Karen's “Unknown Information”
Crimes follow certain patterns, he thought. Whenever something deviates from the pattern, reasonable doubt looms.
Reasonable doubt was a logical hesitation to convict. If a juror found something in the case did not make sense and it made him or her stop and think that the defendant could be innocent if it were true, then that juror was lost to the prosecution. The burden to convict was heavy, but that was the system, and now it was leaning on Jesse like dead weight.
Jesse sat down and looked at the board. He was going to have to pull a rabbit out of his hat. Then he remembered his own credo: “My job is not to convict. My job is to find the truth, no matter how terrible it might be.”
Jesse went back to the board and quickly wrote in:
Casinos
Crawford: anti-casino
MACs: anti-casino
Talli: pro-casino-- forced out by Yancy?
The phone rang. Jesse grabbed it. When he did, he heard a static hum, a light buzzing that came and went quickly. He ignored it.
“King,” he said.
“Fuckin' shit's hitting the fan, Jess!” said Florence.
“What's up, Florence?”
“I got nothing on Crawford and Seth Carson so far, but a drinking buddy of mine at 1300 told me that they caught the woman from the Yancy murder scene last night.”
“Okay, thanks. I'll call you later.” Jesse hung up. He buzzed Dick Steals's office but got no answer. Then he tried D'Estenne. He was not in either. Jesse thought for a moment. Where were Richard and D’Estenne?
“Shit,” he said. He quickly called another number, then ran out.
“I want a lawyer,” said Ramona to the man in the dark room. Both her hands were handcuffed to a table.
“We want answers,” said the detective. “You talk to us, and we'll get you a lawyer.”
“I've seen enough TV to know you can't do that,” Ramona said.
Oscar Beletti sat across from Ramona in the interrogation room of 1300. There were two men behind him that she could not see. Ramona had been taken from her cell and brough
t to the room. She had not been allowed a phone call, and they made sure that no one saw her in the hallways.
“Talk to me or you'll be one sorry-ass bitch,” said Beletti.
“Why ain't y'all talkin'?” Ramona asked to the men in the shadows.
“Don't worry about them,” said Beletti. “You just--”
One of the men held up a hand. He whispered something to
Beletti. Then he and the other man walked out of the room.
Ramona never saw their faces. Ramona tightened in the seat. Beletti got up and adjusted his pants. Then he just walked out, leaving her alone.
“Jesse King!” he yelled to the uniformed officer at the reception desk. “I'm an assistant prosecutor. I know you picked up a suspect in the Yancy case, and I want to see her-now!”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” said the officer, a young woman about twenty-five.
“I don't believe this shit!” said Jesse. “If she's here and we're withholding information, we are in some serious-”
“Jesse,” said a voice.
Jesse turned and saw Dick Steals behind him.
“Richard, where the hell have you been?”
“In court, but I heard about the arrest. News travels.”
“So where is she?” asked Jesse.
“Hey, I just found out myself. I left D’Estenne a message.” To the female cop, Dick Steals said: “We want to see a young lady named Ramona Blake.”
“Sorry, don't got nobody here by that name,” said the young cop.
“There's obviously a mix-up here, Jesse,” said Dick Steals. “Why don't we go back to the office.”
Double Dead Page 13
